


The Other Side of Night

by HamletsProzac



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blindfolds, Bondage, Descriptions of Anxiety, Drugged Sex, M/M, Mentions of homophobia, Mildly Dubious Consent, excessive flirting, hunter/vampire, kissing and love and fluff, mentions of internalized homophobia, mild violence, now with more sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HamletsProzac/pseuds/HamletsProzac
Summary: Bokuto had expected perks when he finally achieved status as a ranked vampire Hunter. What he has is a constant headache a doubt that gnaws at the edges of his mind in all his waking hours.Kuroo Tetsuro offers him a deal.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Bokuro is my lifeblood and this is what I decided to do with that passion. I've been working on this for about a month. This isn't perfect, but I'm proud of it and ready to share it with the world!  
> Couple things:  
> \- The mildly dubious consent tag is just being cautious. It is intended to be consensual and the text indicates as such.  
> \- I'm intending for the setting to feel like low-steampunk. I couldn't quite figure out how to describe it in the story, but the world looks not unline Blood Bank. Basically, I needed Bokuto in leather and Kingdom Hearts level unnecessary zippers and pockets, and this is what I did.  
> \- That explicit tag ain't for later - we're diving into the deep end in chapter one.  
> Please Enjoy~

“Do we need anything? I’m heading to the store.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow at him over the evening newspaper. The headline praises the new advances in factory technology, promising an end to the unfair conditions. “It’s late,” Akaashi says flatly. Bokuto shrugs as he kicks his sneakers on.

“Put on real shoes, please,” Akaashi says, witheringly.

“I won’t be gone long,” Bokuto reasons. Akaashi rolls his eyes. “ _Whaaat?_ I want to make pancakes.”

Akaashi frowns. “What are we missing?”

“Eggs and maple syrup.”

“We have plenty of maple syrup. I just bought some. For _you_ and your pancake addiction.”

“You bought the wrong kind,” Bokuto gloats, finishing tying his shoes.

Akaashi opens his mouth to argue, and decides it’s not worth it. (It had taken Bokuto a while to identify exactly what was happening when Akaashi made that face. Now, recognizing it was his favorite past-time.)

What Akaashi says instead is, “You need to put on proper clothing to go out late at night, Bokuto.” He has his ‘you are a five year old and this is a reasonable adult speaking’ voice on.

“I have on proper clothing!” Bokuto gestures to his leather jacket and long pants. “And it’s not late. It’s only – “ _Shit._ “It’s not even midnight yet.”

“If you would just go to the one that’s further away, I wouldn’t bother trying to stop you. However, I know you, and I know you’re going to go to the one on the wall because it’s closer, even though there’s more risk.”

Bokuto rolls his eyes as he slings his gun belt around his hips. “Akaashi I’m the 3rd best vampire hunter in the country.”

Akaashi’s eyes flash. “You were the fourth best until a month ago. Or did you already forget Moses’s funeral?”

Bokuto grimaces at his busted sneakers. “Low blow, Akaashi.” Akaashi says nothing, only stares at him impassively. “ _Fine_ ,” he groans, kicking off his sneakers and dropping to the floor heavily to fasten on his leather armored boots. There are so many fucking _buckles_ and _ties_ and _straps_ and he has to roll his jeans up to get them on. “Could have been to the store and back by the time I get these on,” he mutters.

“Better than dying,” Akaashi quips.

“Sure about that?” he snipes before he can stop himself. Akaashi either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. He needs out of this apartment, now, or he’s pretty sure he’s gonna die, and it would be extremely uncool to die of anything but killing vampires. (He thinks killing vampires is cool. He’s pretty sure. He has to be.) He snags a bandana off the coat rack and ties it around his neck.

“Seriously, do we need anything else?” he asks, shoving his wallet into his coat pocket.

Akaashi shakes his head. “Just don’t get distracted while you’re there. Your next check doesn’t come through for another week and a half.”

“I don’t know much, but I do know when pay-day is ‘Kaashi.” Bokuto grabs his keys and adjusts his gun belt around his hips. (His stomach flips uneasily.) “Be back soon.”

“Keep Your Head Up. And don’t call me Kaashi.”

Bokuto swings the door wide and calls over his shoulder, “If You Want To Keep It. Later, babe!”

He can just hear Akaashi’s reply of, “Don’t call me babe,” as the door swings shut.  

Bokuto laughs, free and long, into the cool night air. A few guards on patrol on top of the South Gate turn his way. One of them calls out across the courtyard.

“You heading out this time of night, Bo?” He recognizes Yukie’s voice.

He leans out over the railing, trying to catch the light to get a better look at her. It’s the patrol he used to run before he got promoted to Hunter. He waves, gleefully. (Sort of.) “I want pancakes!”

 Washiho frowns down at him. “It’s late.”

Bokuto unsheathes his pistol and spins it around his finger so it catches the light. “I’ll be _fine_ ,” he brags. (God he doesn’t want to use this tonight. He just wants fucking pancakes.) He taps the pin on his chest. “3rd best in the country doesn’t mean anything to you?”

Washiho returns his gaze to over the gate. “Head Up, Bo.” Bokuto gives a cheeky salute towards the rooftop.

He considers, briefly, taking the normal route to the grocery store, but there will still be a lot of people out that close to the center of town. He doesn’t want to answer any more questions than he already has. So, he lifts his foot up to the top of the iron railing and hauls himself up to stand on it at the same time as he turns and grabs the bottom of the railing of the floor above him. Scaling the side of the building is a waste of energy, but he looks fucking _cool_ doing it. He hears the appreciative gasps of the patrol and a smattering of applause as he scales the last level, ending with a little twirl so his coat flourishes around him.

“Hey, hey, hey!” He punches his fists in the air. _God_ that feels good every time. (Actual good, _real_ good.)

“Bokuto is soooooo cool!” someone coos from below.

Bokuto can’t stop the little blush from rising on his cheeks as he strides across the roof and hops over to the wall. A walk will clear his head. It always does. (Always used to.)

The moon is obscured by clouds. The city to his right is thrown into pockets of deep, unobservable shadow. The factories in the distance are vomiting steam into the sky, but they’re not making nearly as much noise as they do during the day. No one’s figured out how to turn them on and off efficiently yet, so they stay on 24/7. It means there’s a whole contingent of workers who’ve become almost entirely nocturnal, so the city runs 27/7 too. There’s plenty of people wandering the streets below, in groups and a few brave ones or Hunters on their own. Attacks have spiked dramatically since the factories were completed. But progress marches on.

He should feel bad about lying to Akaashi, but there really isn’t any danger this close to the wall. Vampires (mostly) have the good sense to either get in or get out, and the South Patrol is famous for their diligence. It’s only a half-mile to the grocery store, and walking along the rooftops is scenic and serene. Farther in, away from the wall, the glow of pubs and restaurants creeps over the rooftops and through the streets. From above, the lights look like some parasite, slowly infecting its way through the city. He’s glad he doesn’t need to go through town. He’s good up here. Where he’s alone with his thoughts.

His thoughts. That was his first mistake – thinking. That’s not his job. But still, he’d thought, he’d _hoped,_ that being promoted to Hunter would make it all…easier. It was _supposed_ to. Everyone wants to be your friend, you get better housing, your family gets a stipend, and _you_ get the glory. But Bokuto just feels empty. Or exhausted? Not as happy as when he was only hunting occasionally, not as happy as when he’d just been a lowly patrol officer. He feels like he’s always covered in blood, and he never knows who it belongs to. He hasn’t seen his mom in four months because he’s been so busy, and he has no idea when he’ll see her again. (And he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something… _wrong_ in it all. Vampires didn’t ask to get made.)

But he doesn’t get to have those doubts. Not him, of all people. So he deals the only way he knows how. He insists on going out to get eggs and maple syrup after sundown just so he has an excuse to be alone.

If he ever thought about it later, he’d put that restlessness, that deep dissatisfaction, at the heart of everything that happens after.

To his right is the city. To the left is the forest. It’s unofficially vampire territory. Technically it’s no man’s land, but it’s too hard for humans to stay safe. There were still reasons to travel beyond the walls, at any time of day or night. (Rebellious teenagers looking to bag a few suckers to climb rank being at the top of the list. It’s half the reason Bokuto ended up where he is.)

When he hears a strangled cry from the trees below, he doesn’t have much choice but to investigate.

He fastens his bandana over his mouth as he approaches the edge of the broad wall. He wishes Akaashi had hounded him about bringing his mask, too. He spares a glance to his right – there’s no one to see him on the streets below. There’s a tall tree close enough that he can jump to it…maybe.

He grimaces and takes a running start, boots crunching on the concrete of the wall as he leaps. He _barely_ makes it. His hands catch some of the thicker branches in the middle just before they fly out of his reach; his feet brace on the trunk, barely scraping. He managed it almost silently.

 _Wish Akaashi had seen that one_ , he thinks as he readjusts his grip and begins his descent.

The scream had to have been close to the wall; it hadn’t been loud but it had still reached him. The gate is a little more than a quarter mile behind him, and no one who needs to sneak out wouldn’t try to do it this close to the wall, and anyone who could exit the gate uncontested probably wouldn’t run into trouble this close to the city. He can see several taller trees from here – someone of even passable athletic ability would have been able to make the same jump he had. Any wanna-be Hunter should have been able to do it no problem.

 _Please just be some idiot kid who spooked himself_ , he practically prays. Bokuto draws his knife and snugs his bandana closer to his mouth. Akaashi would never let him live it down if he left for the right kind of maple syrup and came back with vampirism. Of all the ways to get vamped, swallowing blood has got to be the most painful. It’s slow and awful, but sometimes it doesn’t take. You have to wait days or weeks to be sure the human isn’t going to recover, and it’s agony every second.

 _Don’t think about that._ He takes a deep, slow breath. He relaxes his shoulders, adjusts his grip on his knife. He strains his ears. The wind gently stirs the trees above him. Behind him, the noise of the city is muffled. He breathes in and out, slowly, trying to separate the sources. He doesn’t dare close his eyes, though. That’s asking to die.

“ _Help_!” someone calls. Dead ahead, and loud now that he’s under the cover of the trees.

Bokuto starts forward, knife poised in his back hand. His leather boots barely disturb the leaves under him. He desperately tries to remember what Akaashi told him about stealth.

_Quiet your breathing. Think light. Don’t forget about what’s behind you. Don’t strike until you have to._

There’s a gap in the trees ahead of him – less than ten feet away. He hears a low grunt, then a rustle and thump, as a heavy weight gets dropped to the ground.

 _Fuck this_. He rushes forward, through the gap in the trees. There’s no one there. Before he can even look around, before he can even _breathe,_ a shroud covers his eyes and yanks him backward, until his head hits the rough bark of a tree. It smarts but he barely registers it through the blind panic. He brings his knife up to cut through the cloth –

And then he starts to feel really _really_ good.

A smooth voice rolls through him, saying _Relax. You’re safe. You won’t come to harm_. Can’t argue with that. His limbs feel heavy and warm, and the removal of his sight is almost a blessing. He doesn’t have to see – he can just _feel_. And listen to the voice.

 _That’s right. Let me take care of you. Will you let me do that?_ Bokuto nods, slowly. His mouth has gone dry and he feels…tingly? Electrified? Weird _._ Something wraps around his middle, something warm and firm, keeping him in place. He likes it.

 _You feel good?_ the voice asks. Bokuto swallows and nods, hesitantly. _Good_. _You’re gonna feel even better, as long as you trust me._

“Okay,” Bokuto exhales, shakily. He feels so fucking _good._ His whole body feels hot, but he kinda likes it? And his head is so clear – so calm. He hasn’t felt this way…in years. He sighs and even that feels _amazing_.

 _I’m going to ask you to do a few things for me. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I promise you’ll like it. Ready?_ Bokuto nods, breath caught in anticipation. His skin feels hot and tight, and he’s desperate for the voice to fix it. To help him.  

 _Touch your neck. Slowly. Drag your fingertips across your skin_. Bokuto complies. He’s never really thought about his neck before, except maybe that it’s a bit too long, Adam’s apple too sharp. That doesn’t matter now. His skin _feels_ supple and smooth, and the rush of blood under his fingertips is hot and loud. He’s beautiful.

 _Feels good, right?_ Bokuto nods and smiles. The voice seems to thrum appreciatively. _Now, run your hands down your chest. Feel your muscles? You’ve worked so hard for them. You deserve to relax. Would you like that?_

Bokuto nods, mouth dropping open on a soft moan. “Yes, yes, please.” He’s fairly certain that a chance to relax is all he’s ever wanted.

 _That’s it. You can trust me._ The voice is physical, a honeyed caress that soothes and ignites every fiber of his being. _Unbutton your pants_.

Bokuto almost hesitates, but he realizes his cock his hard. Why would he disobey? Why would he deny this feeling? He’s being broken down, molecule by molecule, and rebuilt into something gorgeous and uncontainable and _alive._ He licks his lips as he opens the button and slides his zipper down. He can’t hear it – only feel the denim against his fingertips, the contrasting textures of the button.

 _Oh, look at you. That’s beautiful._ Bokuto preens, biting his lip against a smile. _Do you want to touch yourself?_

“Yes, please.”

_Go ahead. Let me see you._

Bokuto slides his fingers down his waistband. Cold night air rushes over his cock.

 _“A vampire will try to make you as vulnerable as possible. They will stop at nothing, emotionally abusing and physically weakening their prey in order to feed_.”

Bokuto gasps and his eyes fly open. The waist band of his underwear snaps painfully against his skin, and he sees only blackness – the fucking blindfold. He struggles – the blindfold is wrapped entirely around the tree, and he’s lashed around his middle. His muscles are still heavy and weak.

The voice comes back, but it’s just a voice, now.

“Ah – shit,” it says.

“You’re so fucking dead,” Bokuto spits, reaching for his sidearm.

A _presence_ leans over him and slips the gun from his holster before his heavy fingers can do anything. “Ah, ah – none of that.” His wrists are gathered in the vampire’s hands, and pinned to the tree above him. He hears his gun fall to the ground; too far away. Bokuto’s breath is coming in sharp gasps and he fights against the hold on his wrists with useless muscles.

“Stop struggling,” the voice commands. “If I wanted you dead you’d be dead. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The air in Bokuto’s lungs escapes in a huff. “Bullshit,” he mutters, going limp.

“I’m _not_ ,” the voice snaps, petulant, grouchy.

“What did you do to me?” Bokuto growls, jerking once more against the strong hand that has him pinned.

“Nothing that won’t wear off by morning.” A short pause – Bokuto feels like he’s being sized up. “And nothing that you don’t like,” the voice says slyly.

Bokuto lashes out with his feet – he can’t get any leverage and the vampire dodges him easily. “ _Fuck_ you.” (The vampire isn’t lying, and that’s the most terrifying thing about this situation.)

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. I can’t make you do anything you don’t wanna do.”

Bokuto laughs, empty bluster. “Like I wanna give a fucking peep show to a sucker.”

The voice laughs, smooth and controlled. “Okay, I can give you some _unorthodox suggestions_. But come on, kid. You wouldn’t be out here if you didn’t want a piece of _this.”_ The presence returns, and cool breath rushes over the side of his neck.

Bokuto shivers. “I thought someone was hurt.”

“Awww,” the voice coos at him. Bokuto hides his face in his arm. “How noble.” A hand drags along his chin. “How _c_ _ute.”_

Bokuto jerks away from the touch. “I’ll fucking kill you, I swear.”

The hand disappears. “Why bother?”

Bokuto bristles. “You’re a vampire."

“Oh-ho-ho? Is that so?” Bokuto has the distinct impression that the vampire has his eyebrows raised. “You sound so confident.” He feels cool, dry lips against his ear. “But I’ve been inside your head.”

Bokuto lashes out with his teeth, nearing desperate. “You can’t read my fucking mind.”

The vampire snorts, loosening his grip on Bokuto’s wrists. “Of course not. This isn’t a fairy tale. But I _can_ get pretty accurate impressions, emotions that I can use. Wanna know what I see in you? You’re scared, but not of me. Well, you’re a little scared of me,” he says cockily, “but mostly you’re _curious._ You’re desperate to know more about me. You’re so sick of pretending to be the good little soldier. You want answers, and you’ll do just about _anything_ to get them.” 

Bokuto swallows thickly. He wishes he could deny it. He wishes he hadn’t let the vampire get his gun. He wishes he hadn’t wanted fucking pancakes.

“Don’t look so nervous, pet,” the vampire tells him. He almost sounds genuinely concerned. He drops Bokuto’s wrists. “I meant it – I’m not going to hurt you.” He thinks he hears the sound of the vampire wetting his lips. “You’re too gorgeous.”

Bokuto shivers. “Is the flattery usually part of this?” 

The vampire barks out a laugh. “Babe, we left usually behind the second you woke up and I decided to skip dinner.”

Bokuto bites at his bottom lip. “Why?”

“Hmm?”

His voice comes out hoarse. “Why did you decide to skip dinner?”

He hears the vampire inhale and exhale, quietly. “You weren’t as scared of me as you should have been. I got curious.”

Bokuto nods – it’s a better answer than he expected. “So what now? You’re apparently not going to eat me, and I don’t see how I’m going to get out of this. So what? You leave me tied to a tree all night and wait for someone to find me?”

Again, he gets the feeling he can sense the vampire’s expression. This time, it’s a wicked, wide grin. “We could pick up where we left off.”

Bokuto hopes the vampire can’t tell his how heart leaps into his throat at the thought. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Because there’s more in it for you. Let me show you a good time. Let me show you there’s more to us than you’ve been taught. And then I’ll help you. I’ll answer your questions, and you can stop being afraid of your own mind. I know you want it. Let me give it to you.” The vampire presses close to him. He smells – a little like the forest around them, and a little like warm metal. “Let me make you feel better than you ever have, better than you ever will again.”

Bokuto laughs, high and hysterical. His body strains towards the vampire, and he claws his nails into the tree to keep from reaching out. “Are you fucking crazy?”

He can sense that vicious grin again. “Maybe. You in?”

Bokuto has never been that fond of good decisions, anyway. What has it ever gotten him?

“Okay,” he breathes. Surrendering.

The weightless, heady feeling returns. He gasps, throwing his head back.

“It’s good, right?” the vampire asks. Bokuto nods helplessly. “Good. Touch your neck again.”

Bokuto lets his hands trail over his throat again. It’s chaste, but he feels laid bare and exposed, especially when he thinks about the way the vampires eyes must be tracking the movement, must be itching to kill him. His heart thumps painfully, blood singing through him. The thrall is different this time, lighter; a low thrum instead of a pulse, bolstering him instead of burying him. He can breathe a little easier, and his muscles relax. He can hear the sounds of the forest around him. Wind in the trees. The rustle of leaves beneath their feet. His own steady breath. He still feels wound up, though – ready to spring in any and all directions at once. Sensitive and reactive. Vulnerable.

“Good. Now, lift your shirt up.” Bokuto bites his lip and twists away. “Shhh, shh. No need to be shy. You’re so _pretty_.” A gentle hand runs over his forehead and he has to stop himself from pushing into it. “I just want to see you. Can I see your body? It must be so beautiful and strong to have slain so many of my kind.” Bokuto swallows, feeling the flush rise to his face again. 

“Go ahead,” the voice encourages him. “Tuck it under your chin.”

Bokuto obeys, and the cool air against his skin is delicious. His nipples react, and he can feel the creature’s gaze zero in on them.

“Now _that_ really is lovely. God I’d love to have a taste.”

“Don’t you dare,” Bokuto finds the coherency to say. The vampire chuckles. (Bokuto really, _really_ likes that sound, and he doesn’t know if it’s the thrall or his own fucked up mind.)

“Wouldn’t dream of it, hot stuff. But you’ll touch them for me, right? Show me.”

Bokuto gasps – and obeys. Tentatively, he circles his thumbs over them, biting his lip and trying to suppress the way his hips buck. It feels _good_ – better than he can ever remember it feeling. He gives one a pinch, shivering and catching a little moan in his throat.

“ _Good_. See? How good I can make you feel?”

Bokuto chokes out a “Y-yes.” A hand touches his chest – holding his shirt out of the way. He lets his mouth fall open on a breathy sigh.

“That’s it. Relax, pretty. You’re in good hands.” The vampire considers for a moment. “Your cock looks desperate. I can’t decide which part of you I’d rather suck.”

Bokuto shivers, growing more confident as he strokes and rubs over his nipples. It feels extra good if he pinches and rolls his fingers at the same time.

“Will you pull your cock out for me?”

Bokuto’s hands fly to pull his underwear down and wrap a hand around himself. He starts pumping the head, fast, and lets out a loud groan.

Another hand wraps around his wrist. “Ah ah ah – let me have a look first.” The hand guides his wrist so that he’s making a loose fist at the base of his cock, exposing the length of it. “So _lovely_ ,” the voice murmurs appreciatively. Bokuto turns his face to the side, flushing again. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, sweetheart,” the vampire purrs. “I’ve got you.” The wrist releases him, and Bokuto almost misses the feeling. “Go ahead. But don’t rush – you and me have all the time in the world.”

Bokuto shivers and slides his hand up and down his shaft, feeling his pre slick down his length. It’s obscene and almost terrifying, and he can feel the vampire’s eyes roaming over every inch of him.

“Keep playing with your nipples,” the voice commands, casually, an afterthought. Bokuto does, and he literally _whines_ at the touch. It’s like he didn’t know his body could feel this good. He didn’t know his body could _do_ this – could respond like this, crave like this, _live_ like this. Just the pressure of his own hand is enough to make him dizzy.

The vampire isn’t content with that, though. “You’re so _wet_ ,” the voice moans. Bokuto feels his knees threaten to give and he has to spread his legs so he can brace himself better. “You’re loving this, aren’t you? Exposing yourself like this for me.” Bokuto tips his head back and moans through the rush that sweeps over him at that. The vampire’s lips tickle against his neck. He gasps and opens his eyes, but he can only see the blackness of the blindfold. He’s grateful – he could never go through with this otherwise. 

“Go faster. Let loose. I wanna see it.” The warm feeling intensifies, sweeps through him, reshapes him into a lighting rod for _pleasure_. Bokuto gasps and throws his head back again, moaning and biting his lip. He _wants_ to show it, he needs to let _go_.

He feels the tentative prick of sharp teeth to his neck. He bucks his hips and whines, unable to turn away. Not because he can’t – because it’s too intoxicating. A _vampire_ has their teeth to his neck, and he’s _still alive._ His hand fists his cock faster and faster, growing even harder and thicker in his hand. He feels the soft press of that cool, strong hand against his throat.

“That’s it. _That’s it,_ gorgeous.” Bokuto _burns_ where the vampire touches him. “Come for me. Give it _all_ to _me_.”

Bokuto gasps – chokes – cries out – and obeys. He’s had plenty of orgasms. They’ve never been anything like this. 

The sharp, burning pleasure zips through all of him at once – there’s no slow build or crest, only the overwhelming force of it all. It’s bliss, it’s rapture, it’s the answer to every question he’s ever had. He’s left panting and almost sobbing in the wake of it, delirious, ecstatic, beautiful and perfect. As it lingers, the floaty feeling returns. It’s peaceful. He’s nothing.

The last thing he remembers is the voice, whispering in his ear.

“If you want my help, come find me here tomorrow night.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two friends! Thanks so much for anyone who left a comment on the first chapter. This chapter is a little different; unfortunately there's no Kuroo. But you get some Akaashi and some Yahaba, so I hope you enjoy it!

“Bokuto, wake up.”

Bokuto starts. He’s been asleep, but not in his bed. His neck feels _awful_ – he slept sitting up, leaned against the tree.

The tree?

_Oh fuck._

He masturbated in front of a vampire. He _masturbated_ in front of a vampire. _He_ masturbated in front of a _vampire_. While tied to a tree. While the vampire called him pretty. Oh _fuck._

Oh double fuck Akaashi is right there.

He jolts, the pain in his neck redoubling as he sits up. Akaashi is crouched next to him, impassive eyes boring into him. It’s morning. Sunlight peeks through the trees; the air is just starting to warm. Morning birds are still singing.

Bokuto rubs his eyes – partially to stall, partially because he feels hungover – and sits up. His pants are buttoned – the vampire must have done it before he left. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. He’ll think about it later.

Akaashi is not pleased.

“What the fuck.”

“What?”

“Don’t fucking what me.”

“ _What?”_

“Why didn’t you come home last night?”

Bokuto shrugs, rolling his shoulders to loosen the knots in his shoulders. (They aren’t as tight as usual.) “Can’t a guy commune with nature?” Akaashi glares at him. Bokuto stands, dusting himself off and trying to look calm. “Sorry I didn’t text you. I didn’t think you’d care.”

Akaashi exhales heavily through his nose and stands too. “It doesn’t matter if I _care_.”

“So you don’t?” he snipes, walking over to pick up his gun. He keeps his back to Akaashi as he inspects it, cool as a cucumber. His heart is _pounding_ , caught in his throat. Every muscle in his body is desperate to make a run for it.

Akaashi is glaring daggers into his back. “Koutarou.”

Bokuto holsters his pistol and affixes his expression – apologetic, nervous. Big ol’ puppy dog eyes. He sighs and turns to face him. “I’m sorry, ‘Kaashi. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Akaashi softens (as much as he ever does). “Why did you lie?”

“I didn’t think you’d understand.” It’s technically the truth, but it still burns.

Akaashi’s mouth sets into a hard, dissatisfied line. “Why did you sleep out here in the woods?”

Bokuto scuffs his foot on the ground. “I needed some time alone.” Akaashi arches one eyebrow. Bokuto rubs the back of his neck and averts his gaze. “I just haven’t felt like myself lately. Needed to. I don’t know. Reset?”

Akaashi considers this. He nods, once. A few knots in Bokuto’s stomach unravel. “Do you feel better?”

Bokuto smiles, genuinely. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Akaashi turns back to the city. “Let’s get home before we’re late for breakfast.”

Bokuto allows himself one deep inhale, and then on the exhale he chases after Akaashi.

"How'd you find me?" he asks as they circle back to the gate. There’s no good way to scale the wall, so they have to go all the way around.

"You're not as subtle as you think you are," Akaashi grumbles. He's still upset. 

Bokuto frowns - Akaashi can't see it because he's leading the way. "What do you mean?" 

"The tree you jumped to looked pretty bad," Akaashi admits, glancing at Bokuto. "You ripped some of the branches off. From there it wasn't hard to pick out your trail."

"Ah - damn," Bokuto mutters, scrubbing the back of his neck. "That's embarrassing." Akaashi doesn't say anything, but Bokuto gets the sense that he's agreeing. 

Bokuto tries to focus on the way the grass crunches beneath his feet, and the stalks of the spring flowers that will be blooming in a few weeks. Desperately trying to forget the previous night. (Desperately trying to _remember_.)

"Akaashi?" Bokuto asks hesitantly. 

"Yes, Bokuto?"

"Don't...don't tell anyone about this. Not yet, please. Is that okay?" Bokuto bites at his lip nervously. 

Akaashi looks back at him again. His eyebrows are raised in shock. "Of course not."

Bokuto smiles in relief. "Thanks, 'Kaash." 

Akaashi smiles back. "Just...don't do this again." Bokuto freezes, steps faltering. Akaashi slows down to match his step with Bokuto's, shaking his head. "I just mean don't be afraid to talk to someone if you start feeling that way again. Okay?" 

Bokuto smiles, but this time it's fake. "Okay, Akaashi." They don't talk after that.

The morning passes in a haze. He feels like everyone knows – like everyone can smell it on him. Akaashi would have said something if he had any marks, but he keeps touching his neck when he’s sure no one is looking. (It makes him shiver, even if it doesn’t feel as good as when the vampire told him to do it.) ( _Fuck._ )

He showers and changes his clothes in a daze, and chokes down the bread that Akaashi tells him to eat. He redresses in his full uniform, polishing his badge until it gleams. The smell of the leather duster and the thick, heavy material of his pants are a small comfort, until he remembers _why_ it’s comforting. It’s also the smell of death and violence.

He’s dreading getting assignments for the day, but Akaashi covers for him again, saying something that sounds smart about exhaustion and stress and a stomach bug. Akaashi deserves a month’s supply of dark chocolate and 3 days of complete silence from Bokuto. Probably a bottle of vodka, too. Akaashi manages to get him an easy assignment. Bokuto thanks him with a grateful look. Akaashi shakes his head – _don’t worry about,_ he means.

He takes the back way to their apartment building, alone. He scales up the back in the alleyway against the outer wall, lest he run into anyone without Akaashi there to help. He closes the door behind him. He slides down onto the scratchy mat. The static in his brain clears; he hears the low hum of the air conditioning, the sound of a television through the left wall. He’s alone. 

He feels light-headed and small. Not like the walls are closing in – like the walls are _listening_ , looking, watching. He can’t breathe. His lungs aren’t working right, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t see, either. The edges of his vision are blacking out. The floor is going to open up and he’s going to fall straight to hell, he _knows_ it. There’s no other option after last night, right? He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe he can’t _breathe..._

Eventually, he can.

He is not dragged to the underworld by shadows with cool hands and smooth voices. His lungs do not collapse. Feeling returns to his fingers and toes, and his vision clears. He takes a few deep, normal breaths.

He _thunks_ his head back against the door a few times. He has to resist a pretty compelling urge to do it harder, and over and over again until he passes out. He should get up – he should turn on the television, or some music, or the news, or _something_ to drown out his thoughts. But he can’t quite muster the energy to get off the floor.

The fact is that the third best vampire hunter in the country allowed himself to be caught unaware by a vampire. He was made helpless, and then _gave in_ to the vampire’s tricks. He technically had sex with it. And it was _good_. It was the best orgasm of his life, by far, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg of the insanity. The vampire was just _not_ what he expected. He’d reached right into Bokuto’s soul and pulled out every little scrap of truth and then he’d _protected_ it. He’d caressed it and kissed it, handed Bokuto everything he’d ever wanted with, basically, no strings attached.

Bokuto wants so badly to believe it had been lying about the thrall; that at the very least he hadn’t been a willing participant in pissing all over the rules. But even now, safe in his apartment, his hunting gear hung beside him, he can’t convince himself. The vampire was right – he’d _wanted_ it. And he’d taken it, and he’d lived. The vampire hadn’t touched him, just like he promised. There wasn’t a scratch on him. The only thing he had left were his memories, which weren’t _nearly_ as fuzzy as he’d expected from other accounts of vampire attacks. He should be disoriented, he shouldn’t remember a thing. But instead, he remembers _every_ thing. He’d rather forget, he’d rather it get erased from his mind and pretend it never happened.

Instead, he remembers the texture of cool fingers against his throat with enough detail to make him gasp aloud. He remembers the floaty, heady feeling, the pure bliss he’d felt under the vampire’s spell. He wants it back – _god_ he wants it _back_.

Can he? Can he ever allow himself to indulge like that again? The thought sends a shiver down his spine. It was one thing to be curious about vampires – just about everyone was, a little. It wasn’t unheard of for Hunters to have doubts, or for uneducated civilians to willingly join them. It was entirely fucking unheard of for a world-class Hunter to sneak off to the woods to have romantic rendezvous with a _vampire_.

And yet. And yet. And yet…

He feels the ghost of Akaashi’s disapproving eyes, staring down at him in the forest, glaring at him with mistrust and anger. He takes a deep breath and digs his nails into his palms, deep and hard. He just has to get through the rest of the day. He doesn’t have to go meet with the vampire if he doesn’t want to. He can go and kill the vampire if he wants to do that instead. He’s in control.

That’s what he tells himself.

*

“I hate hospitals,” Bokuto says conversationally.

Yahaba, the Aoba Johsai officer who’s been assigned to this de-brief with him, just hums noncommittally. Bokuto knows Akaashi did what he could to pull him easy assignment but he can’t help but feel this was the worst possible option for him today. Bokuto rocks back and forth in his uncomfortable chair, trying not to make any noise.

He doesn’t really hate hospitals _that_ much. But they’re always weirdly dark even though they look like they should be well-lit and absolutely no one is in a good mood, ever, at all. He tries to feel lucky that this is all he has to do today, he really does, but every time he lets his guard down he starts to remember the night before. Starts to remember strong hands pinning his wrists, remember a smooth voice reassuring him and praising him, swears he can feel the prick of teeth against his neck.

He shivers, but covers it with a yawn. The room they’re in isn’t cold. Most of the waiting rooms haven’t been updated with electrical fixtures, so the windows are wide open, letting in the afternoon sun. It’s not too crowded, but there’s enough to set Bokuto on edge. This entire floor is devoted to treating vampire attacks. This floor is too busy. Bokuto is squished between Yahaba and an elderly man with a cast on his leg. He wears an old hunters badge pinned to the lapel of his jacket. Bokuto does not respond to his efforts to start and conversation. Not today.

“Think there’s anything here?” he asks Yahaba instead.

Yahaba shrugs. “Probably not. This happens all the time out there. Stupid kids.”

Bokuto nods and hopes he doesn’t look too nervous. He can’t stop himself from bouncing his leg, though. He hopes Yahaba chalks it up to impatience (even though they’ve only been waiting for 7 minutes).

It probably wasn’t the best topic to try and start a conversation with. There was a vampire attack in D-4 district late last night. It’s a dangerous area, and everyone should know that by now. There’s tons of alleys and side streets for vampires to hide in, some of them well-concealed even during the day. It’s a poor enough part of town that the walls aren’t as secure as they need to be. And it’s near the territory edge of two clans so it’s easy for guard schedules to miss each other. Bokuto idly scans the information in his folder, even though he’s basically memorized it by now. _Disturbance in D-4, 1:21 am. Male 20, Female 18. Male admitted to hospital with life-threatening injuries, Female unharmed. Determine the nature of the attack, report back any relevant details._ The packet also tells him that the girl is a hunter and the boy has relatives in Blue Castle’s armor industry, but that’s it. It’s possible that he was targeted, so their job is to follow up with the Hunter for any more relevant information that may have been missed in the chaos last night.

A small man in the soft grey uniform of the hospital steps in front of them. “You here to talk to Ara Yin?” he asks, looking the two of them over critically. Bokuto straightens up in his seat and tries to look at professional as Yahaba. (It’s a lost cause.) “She’s still pretty upset, but you can come see her,” the doctor says warily, beckoning them to stand and follow.

Bokuto is so so so grateful to get out of that damn chair. He leaps up and tries not to follow too closely on the heels of the doctor. He can feel Yahaba’s eyes on the back of his neck. _This is a normal day,_ he tells himself. _This is just a normal inquiry, and soon you’ll be home._

The doctor deposits them in front of a young girl with little preamble. The hallway they’re in is quiet, almost deserted. The girl is wearing a hunter’s jacket that looks brand new. Ara herself looks worse for wear. She’s wearing a rather adorable dress under the jacket – she hadn’t been expecting trouble last night. Her knees are skinned and her long, black hair was styled 10 hours ago, but it’s flat and greasy now. She’s probably been up all night. Yahaba hesitates, glancing at Bokuto, before sitting in the chair next to her. Bokuto leans against the wall across, trying to look smaller than he really is.

“Hey,” the girl – Ara – mumbles. Her face is buried in her hands, and she doesn’t look up to talk to them.

“You’re not in trouble,” Bokuto interjects, as Yahaba opens his mouth to speak. He raises an eyebrow at Bokuto, but doesn’t interrupt. The girl, on the other hand, only shifts uncomfortably in response. Bokuto presses on, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Really, you’re not. We’re only here to get a report on what happened.” The girl shifts again, but some of the tension releases from her shoulders.

“Just talk to us,” Yahaba cuts in. “We can help.”

At that, Ara looks over at Yahaba warily. Her eyes are so big and _young._ Bokuto vaguely remembers a newspaper article about the morality of allowing people under 20 to become full-fledged Hunters. The uneasy feeling that’s been squirming around in his stomach all day tries to crawl up into his throat. He swallows it down.

Ara takes a deep breath and blinks hard. “I was out with my boyfriend,” the girl starts, haltingly. She’s fidgeting with the long sleeve of her jacket. “We were just getting a few drinks – we’d been dating a month.” She flushes, just a bit on the tops of her cheekbones. Embarrassed of her youth, maybe. Nervous to be in front of a seasoned officer and a decorated Hunter after the disaster of her date. (Bokuto notices dimly that she’s very, very pretty.)

“And then what happened?” Yahaba prompts, gently.

“I was walking him home. We were in a kind of quiet part of town – between the shopping district and the factories?” Bokuto and Yahaba both nod, exchanging an exasperated look. They both bite their tongues against the _I told you so_ s.

“Bellamy had to – uh.” She raises her eyebrows suggestively. “Take a leak?” Bokuto snorts, despite himself. Yahaba raises an eyebrow at him. Bokuto stifles another giggle and motions for the girl to continue. She seems set at ease by Bokuto’s outburst. She relaxes back into her chair.

“I guess I’d had a few too many, because I should have told him to wait, or something. He ducked around the corner of a building to – uh.” She shrugs her shoulders and carries on quickly. “I waited for him, and then I heard a thump. Uh, I heard Bells hitting the ground.” Her voice gets a little tight and she averts her gaze. “I let my guard down and he got attacked. I – I can’t believe I was so _stupid.”_

Bokuto steps forward, crouching down next to her. “Hey,” he says fiercely, crouching down to look into the girls eyes. “Ara, right?” She nods, jaw clenched tight. “It’s not your fault,” he assures her.

“Of course it is. I’m a Hunter – I said I’d protect him!”

Bokuto notices that her fingernails are digging harshly into her palms. He takes her hands in his. “And you did the best you could. And he still got attacked,” he says gently. She lets out a sob and ducks her head. “And that’s gonna happen sometimes.” She looks up, eyes wide in disbelief and fear. “That’s what being a hunter means. It means doing your best and still losing sometimes. What we do is hard.” Bokuto squeezes her hands gently. He glances at Yahaba, who stares impassively back. He shifts on his feet, so he’s crouched more comfortably. “What did you do when you saw Bellamy had fallen?”

She hesitates, looking to Yahaba for permission. He nods, pen poised over his notebook. “I fired my weapon,” she answers. “My aim was off – I know I clipped the vamp because I didn’t hear the bullet hit a wall or anything, but it didn’t scream.” She shivers. Bokuto understands the sentiment. “It just ran away.”

“That’s exactly what you were supposed to do,” Yahaba tells her. Bokuto nods encouragingly, squeezing her hands again.

Ara’s eyes well with tears and she sets her jaw defiantly. “I wasn’t supposed to put him in that situation in the first place.”

“You probably shouldn’t have been on that side of town. Maybe you should have traveled in a bigger group,” Bokuto reasons. “There’s a billion things you could have done different, but you didn’t. You did what you did, and it turned out the way it did. Don’t second guess yourself – it’ll make you crazy. _And_ a bad Hunter.”

She frowns. “How can thinking more make me a worse Hunter?” she asks stubbornly. She reminds Bokuto of himself, and his heart _aches_ at the way her voice doesn’t quaver, the way her gaze does not falter.

“Because you’ve trained and honed your instincts to keep you and your loved ones safe. Yeah, always follow protocol, always use your common sense. But in a life-or-death situation, back against the wall, do what you did last night. Trust your training.” Bokuto reaches out and squeezes her shoulder. “You’re here today because of it. Don’t ever regret that.”

Ara’s eyes well again. Yahaba politely looks away, but Bokuto holds her gaze. He gives her another reassuring squeeze, ignoring the little voice in his head that hisses _Traitor._

Another doctor walks up behind them. “Ara Yin?” she asks, detached. 

Ara turns pale, and Bokuto stands up to let her approach the doctor. “That’s me,” she says calmly, but Bokuto notices the way her hands are shaking.

“Mr. Linay is fine. If you want to see him, follow me.” The doctor turns and leaves without waiting.

Ara’s eyes light up. “I can go, right?” she asks, looking hopefully up at Bokuto, who defers to Yahaba.

Yahaba nods, standing and buttoning his coat. “Try to be more careful next time, Ms. Yin.” His tone is stern, but his eyes are only…appraising. The way Akaashi’s get sometimes.  

Ara salutes Yahaba, and Bokuto has the breath knocked out of him as she crushes her arms around him. She’s _strong_.

“Thanks, Bokuto,” she whispers into his chest before she scampers around the corner to follow the doctor taking care of her boyfriend.

Bokuto scrubs the back of his neck at Yahaba’s raised eyebrow. “What?” he mutters, feeling himself flush.

Yahaba smiles – it’s the first time Bokuto has seen him do it all afternoon. “You handled that well,” he says simply. Bokuto bounces his head up and down a few times, trying not to look like he’s agreeing because he doesn’t. Yahaba watches him for another moment – Bokuto has a brief panic where he’s _sure_ he knows about last night – and then says, “I just didn’t expect that.”

Bokuto gives a little acquiescing shrug. “I don’t have a reputation for my way with words.” He doesn’t want to talk about what he _does_ have a reputation for right now. He turns on his heel and walks down the hall, towards the stairwell. The heat inside is oppressive, and their work here is done. Yahaba follows. And keeps talking.

“I just wasn’t expecting you to say all that stuff about instinct. I would have figured you’re a by-the-book kind of guy.” Yahaba’s tone holds no judgement, but reveals a keen curiosity.

Normally, Bokuto would be basking in the praise, drinking it in like fine wine. Today, he shoulders open the door to the service stairwell with a little grunt as he thinks of a response. The stairwell is even hotter than the rest of the hospital. “By-the-book training is important,” he hedges, “but instinct is what saves your ass.” _Except when it leads you to jerking off while a vampire watches._ He hurries down the steps faster – are the walls closing in? The walls aren’t closing in, right? Three floors to go. “You’re not a hunter, are you?” Bokuto asks, to get the topic off himself.

“I’m not,” Yahaba answers, neither pride nor shame in his tone. “But I’ve still heard of you. Hell, we all have. Anyone with a record like yours is worth following.”

“I’m flattered,” Bokuto says, not feeling much of anything beyond the low-level dread curling in the pit of his stomach that’s been threatening to send him screaming all day. Two floors to go.

“I was really surprised when I saw my partner for this assignment,” Yahaba prattles. Bokuto has spent nearly two hours with this man and he’s said barely anything. “I wouldn’t have figured you’d be doing the grunt work.”

“Oh, you know. Everyone does their part,” he mutters. He kind of hears Yahaba agree and hopes that will be the end of it. He rounds the last corner of the stairwell and gratefully steps into the lobby of the hospital. He only pushes the door a little too hard.

It’s immediately cooler, and he heaves a sigh of relief. The lobby is massive, huge pillars and rows of chairs and reception desks breaking up the space. There’s plenty of people bustling back and forth, most dressed in drab grey, but some civilians and hunters. It’s not chaotic, but it’s easy to slip into the crowd. No one notices him. He makes for the exit, but his luck has run out.

“Officer Yahaba?” someone calls from the front desk. Bokuto is tempted to pretend he didn’t hear, but Yahaba is apparently not on board.

He strides over with an easy, confident smile. Bokuto hangs back, finding a wall to lean against. His fingers twitch with anxiety, but he manages to keep it under control. No one approaches him, but a few people keep glancing at him from the corner of their eye. A few in Hunter’s jackets nod to him when he accidentally meets their eye. Embarrassingly, one even gives him a salute. Bokuto doesn’t have much choice but to return it and pray no one else notices. A group of girls, probably only 14, giggle as they look him over. It looks like one of them is trying to work up the nerve to talk to him. He prays she doesn’t, but he feels a flush rise across his cheeks. The girls giggle harder. If only they knew.

Yahaba frowns a few times listening to the receptionist, but finishes his conversation quickly. He jogs back over to Bokuto, weaving through the crowd effortlessly.

“Sorry about that,” he says brightly, gesturing towards the door. Bokuto follows gratefully as he explains, “We’re a bit swamped on our side of the wall. We’ve had a huge spike in attacks like this, so paperwork is out of control.” Yahaba consults a series of little papers that had been handed to him at reception and scoffs. “And Kyotani is trying to get himself killed again, apparently.” He balls that one up and shoves it into the pocket of his coat.

Despite his exhaustion, Bokuto’s ears prick up. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

Yahaba grimaces and flicks his hair out of his eyes. It’s the strongest expression he’s seen him make. “Because he’s constantly disobeying orders while somehow managing to be an excellent hunter about 70% of the time.”

Bokuto remembers now. He’s kind of constantly in the news, even in Fukurodani territory. He’s reckless, and he’s gotten two of his partners killed. But despite being 5 years Bokuto’s junior, his numbers are climbing fast. If he gets his act together, he’ll break into the top 30 and be allowed to hunt solo. The only people who climbed faster than him are Shiratorizawa’s Ushiwaka and Bokuto himself.

They step out of the lobby and into bright spring sunlight. The hospital is in its own district, so the only foot traffic is flowing to and from the hospital. Bokuto leads them back to the Fukurodani offices to turn in their report about Ara and Bellamy while Yahaba keeps reading over his memos.

“What did Kyotani do?” Bokuto asks, partly for conversation but mostly because, despite his exhaustion, he’s curious (and a little jealous of the attention the kid attracts).

Yahaba grunts. “He decided it would be a good idea to sneak out and go hunting on his own. Didn’t bring his pistols, just his knife. He bagged a few, but he got the shit kicked out of him. He has a conduct hearing in an hour.” Yahaba rolls his eyes to the heavens. “I’m technically in charge of him – he needs a _supervisor_ – so I’m supposed to be there. I guess I’ll just have to telegram and tell them I’m not going to make it.” He makes to step inside a nearby busy café.

Bokuto has just a little luck left, then. “That seems kind of important. I can manage the rest on my own,” he offers hastily.

Yahaba considers it. “It’s not really protocol,” he says slowly.

“There’s nothing here. I don’t think anyone will notice. I’ll file your report and everything.” Bokuto holds his hand out for Yahaba’s paperwork, trying not to look impatient.

Yahaba peeks through the window to look at the café’s wall clock. He considers it for a few seconds – a few _hours_ as far as Bokuto is concerned – and Bokuto is sure he’s going to insist on following the rules when he shrugs and hands Bokuto the little folder he’s been taking notes in all morning. Bokuto clutches it gratefully.

“Thanks, Bokuto,” Yahaba says genuinely, straightening the sleeves of his coat. “I appreciate the favor. Let me know if there’s anything I can ever do for you.” He hands out a small business card, which Bokuto takes without seeing it. His skin is buzzing – he just wants to be alone.

“Sure thing, Officer Yahaba,” Bokuto gets out, fingers tickling the edges of the papers he’s holding.

Yahaba smiles, adjusting his hair in his reflection in the mirror. He turns and offers Bokuto his hand. “It was really nice to meet the famous Bokuto Koutarou.”

Bokuto accepts the handshake, despite the way his skin crawls. “You as well. Keep Your Head Up.”

“If You Want To Keep It,” Yahaba replies, his tone entirely too merry for what the words imply. And then he’s gone.

The noise of the café bubbles around him. It’s neither loud nor quiet. There are families and couples and single people. Off-duty nurses and doctors from the hospital, their families, teenagers who are training to take their parents’ places someday. He gratefully finds a small empty table on the street. He sits, legs shaking and sweat pricking up at his temples and under his arms.

He can’t help but wonder if the vampire who attacked those kids is anything like the vampire he met last night. If that vampire was conflicted and semi-vegetarian too. Or if there was any truth in the vampires-all-deserve-to-die philosophy that he had _dedicated his entire life to_. He tries not to imagine how hungry the vampire might have been. He tries not to imagine how terrified Bellamy must have been as he felt teeth sink into his neck, his girlfriend just around the corner. He tries not to think about whether or not the vampire’s thrall affects the pain, or how it might actually feel to have your blood sucked from your body to feed another living creature. He tries not to think about cool, strong hands on his and the heat that coursed through his body as he –

Nope. Nope, not doing that. Bokuto stands abruptly, chair scraping loudly against the sidewalk. A few people glance over at him, but he gives them a goofy smile and a wave. He sets his shoulders and stalks off towards the office to turn in his paper work.

It is not his fault that he’s conflicted. It’s not his fault he’s confused, or unsure. There should be resources for him to pursue, but there aren’t. So he is going to do this himself. He’s too tired to do anything else. Tired of acting like he doesn’t care about how many lives he’s taken. Tired of taking them. Tired of doubting if he’s on the right side of this futile cold war.

He’s going to meet a vampire in the woods tonight. And come hell or high water he’s getting some damn answers.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment if you liked it! And share it with anyone else you think will enjoy it. See you with chapter three soon!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Kuroo. ;) Short chapter, but it's about 2k of dialogue to make up for all the world building in the last chapter.  
> Thanks for all the lovely comments about the setting! I think I bit off a little more than I can chew with all this, so encouraging comments are really nice to read.  
> Enjoy!

“You actually came.”

Bokuto had been so ready for it – he’d tried to be, anyway – but the voice of the vampire still makes him jump out of his skin. He spins around wildly, brandishing his knife.

The vampire is his height. Somehow that’s the first thing he notices. Almost exactly his height. But where Bokuto is bulk and heavy muscle, the vampire is slender and lithe. And he’s stupidly handsome, of course _,_ because Bokuto has entered an alternate dimension where vampires are hot and want to see his dick. High cheekbones, full lips, and those _eyes_ – a bright amber-gold, ringed with a brown so rich it was almost red. Intelligent in a way Bokuto has never seen. Too old for his face and wise but so vibrant. He could almost get lost in them. They are so inviting. And warm, and soft. He takes a step forward to get a better look.

Bright moonlight flashes off the edge of his blade.

Bokuto leaps back, nearly tripping over a tree root. “Quit that!” he barks, nearly going for his gun.

The vampire laughs, low and smooth. It curls into Bokuto’s gut unpleasantly. “Not doing anything, handsome.” The vampire remains leaned against the tree.

“Bullshit! Quit using that shit on me!” Bokuto shakes his head, violently, _frustrated_. If he looks at the vampire too long he’s not sure what he’ll do. His heart is racing and his head is spinning.

The vampire frowns, cocking his head. “I can’t always help it. I’m supposed to be alluring or whatever. Don’t look at me if it bothers you that much.”

“Don’t _look at you?”_ Bokuto laughs incredulously. “You’ll kill me in a second.”

The vampire rolls his eyes. “I literally already snuck up on you. If I wanted you dead, you’d be so extra super dead, dude.”

Bokuto pouts, shifting his feet nervously. The vampire smirks, cocking his hip so Bokuto can see the long line of his legs squeezed into tight pants.

“Don’t worry so much.” The vampire pushes off the tree, taking a few steps closer to Bokuto. He moves like water: smooth and efficient, conserving energy while maintaining elegance and grace. It’s sinfully attractive, and Bokuto hates himself.

“You’re a vampire,” Bokuto protests, grip loosening on his knife even as the vampire draws closer. “How am I supposed to relax?”

“You relaxed last night,” the vampire says impishly, licking his lips. (It’s disgustingly attractive.)

Bokuto bristles, against his will. “That was different. I wasn’t expecting…you.”

The vamp licks his lips again, slowly, considering. “What do you mean?” he says eventually. He sounds genuinely curious.

“You caught me by surprise,” Bokuto admits reluctantly. I thought you were someone hurt, someone who needed help.” He hardens as the memory comes back to him. “But you were trying to trap me. You knew if you pretended to be a human in danger, someone would come help. I wouldn’t have any choice,” he says, steel and venom. “Are you proud of yourself?”

The vampire shrugs, unaffected. “Not really. I gotta eat. You’re just lucky you were too pretty.”

Bokuto feels himself blush, and turns his face to hide it. “Quit saying shit like that.”

“Does it bother you?” the vampire asks. He sounds so damn sincere, so _human._ Bokuto shifts uncomfortably again, avoiding the vampire’s eyes. He thinks about sheathing his knife, but that feels a little too much like giving up. He lets it drop uselessly to his side.

The vampire is still watching him. Not unkindly, not even hungrily (maybe a little hungrily?). He’s just _watching,_ staring at him. He looks curious, fascinated. Bokuto can’t imagine what he’s looking for, or that he’ll find it. He shifts uncomfortably, while the vampire examines him.

“What’s your name?” Bokuto blurts out.

The vampire raises his eyebrow. “Kuroo.” He hesitates for a moment. “What can I call you?” 

He considers not telling him. He considers lying. What he says is, “Bokuto.”

Kuroo’s eyes sharpen. “ _Bokuto?_ First class Fukurodani Bokuto? Third best in the country _Bokuto_?”

Bokuto feels his shoulders straighten in spite of himself. “So what if I am?”

The vampire – Kuroo –appraises him for a few more seconds. Bokuto stares him down, even though meeting the vampire’s eyes for that long makes his stomach clench sickeningly. Eventually, Kuroo just shakes his head a little and shrugs. “I’m just surprised. I’ve heard of you. You don’t seem the type.”

“The type to what?”

Kuroo’s smirk turns ruthless. “The type to enjoy _extracurriculars_ with a vampire.”

“I’m _not_ ,” Bokuto insists, face heating.

“Oh really?” Kuroo’s tone is dripping with mocking venom, and Bokuto blushes all the way to his fingertips. “So it _wasn’t_ you last night? You _don’t_ have such crippling doubt about your place that you agreed to meet with a _vampire,”_ Kuroo gestures to himself dramatically, “in the middle of the night? It isn’t you who’s defying your family, your friends, your entire _life_ , just to get a glimpse of the other side?”

Bokuto’s fingers itch on the handle of his knife. “Fuck off.”

Kuroo leans back against the tree, satisfied. He looks Bokuto up and down, lingering at his tense shoulders and clenched fists. “So what do you wanna know?”

Bokuto feels his brows raise. He swallows, licks his lips. Where to start? His tongue is tied. Kuroo waits patiently, expression polite and neutral. (Bokuto wishes he’d act more like a vampire.)

“How old are you?” he settles on.

“I’m almost 300,” Kuroo answers evenly.

Bokuto feels his jaw drop through the center of the earth. “That _old_?”

“I’m spry for my age,” Kuroo grins. The bastard looks so _smug_.

“No, but – you don’t seem that old,” he says lamely.

“I wasn’t that old when I got turned,” Kuroo offers. “And I don’t really buy into that stuck-up tight-lipped “I’m so powerful” crap. Waste of time.” Then he smirks _again_. (Bokuto is starting to _hate it_.) “Plus, I’m hip. I keep up with the kids.”

Bokuto snorts, giggling. Kuroo looks almost as surprised as Bokuto feels. Bokuto stomps on the laughter still bubbling in his chest.

Before he can think of another question, Kuroo asks, “How old are you?”

“I’ll be 24 in three months,” Bokuto answers, regretting it instantly. He could have lied and said he was older for intimidation. Or maybe younger, for sympathy.

Kuroo doesn’t seem to notice. He just smiles, a little. “I was 22.”

Bokuto feels a slow grin spread across his face. “I’m older than you.”

Kuroo’s jaw drops. “You _are not!_ I just said-“

“You’re 22!”

“I am _two hundred and-“_

“Aren’t vampires like eternally youthful and shit? Your _body_ is only 22, so I’ll always be older than you, no matter what!” Bokuto puts his hands on his hips and sticks out his tongue.

“That is the _stupidest_ reasoning I’ve _ever_ heard about _anything_.”

“Tough shit, kid.”

Kuroo laughs. He throws his head back, baring his long, pale throat. It’s kind of gorgeous (not that Bokuto looks for long). Kuroo grins at him.

“Keep going. This is fun,” he says, settling down on the ground. He leans against the tree and stretches his long legs out in front of him. He’s wearing regular sneakers. Bokuto feels overdressed in his boots.

He doesn’t sit, but he does finally sheathe his knife. “Why were you out here last night?”

“Hunting.”

Bokuto feels his stomach drop. Why on _earth_ did he put his knife away? Kuroo must read his expression.

“Not like that,” he says softly. “We can eat animals too. You eat animals, don’t you?” Bokuto nods suspiciously. “It’s easier to find a rabbit or a stray dog than a human, most of the time. They like your dumpsters.”

Bokuto glares. “So what. You’re a – a vegetarian?”

“I didn’t say that,” Kuroo says lightly. He’s neither proud, nor ashamed. He’s just stating facts.

Bokuto bites at the inside of his lip, averting his gaze again. “Why did you…” He scowls at the ground, glances once at Kuroo. “Why do you want to help me?”

Kuroo sighs and frowns like Bokuto asked him to do trigonometry. “I don’t know.” Bokuto snorts, folding his arms across his chest and glaring down at the vampire.

“I _don’t!”_ Kuroo claims defensively. “I just – I.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in his fingers. It reminds Bokuto of Akaashi. “Look. Vampire politics are kind of complicated.”

“ _Politics?”_ Bokuto repeats in shock.

“We’re not that different from you!”

“What the fuck does _politics_ have to do with you not eating me?” Bokuto glares, hands twitching towards his pistols.

Kuroo doesn’t seem threatened. He rolls his eyes to the sky and mutters, “Oh – gods – okay,” under his breath. He levels his gaze up at Bokuto, jaw set defiantly. “Okay, you have your doubts about what you do, right?”

“Right,” Bokuto agrees, remembering to furrow his brow skeptically at the last second.

“And vampires used to be humans, right?”

“Right…” He keeps frowning down at Kuroo. Maybe he can just intimidate him into making sense.

“Is it so crazy to believe that vampires could have doubts about murdering humans constantly?”

Bokuto folds his arms and juts his chin out defiantly. “But humans are your food source. Like literally you’re built and designed to kill us. You even have sexy-mind-roofies to make us do your bidding and shit before you eat us. Why should I believe that – what, that you’re just a big softie?”

Kuroo grimaces. “That’s not – no, I don’t expect you to believe that.” He picks absently at the toe of his shoe. That reminds Bokuto of his first crush.

“ _Stop_ that,” Bokuto snaps.

Kuroo reels in shock, lip curling into a sneer. “Stop what?”

“Being so fucking normal.”

Kuroo’s face drops and rearranges into passive arrogance. “Normal?” The curl of his smile is sinister – he’s laughing at him.

Bokuto glares, blood rising. “Like a human!”

Kuroo leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I told you I don’t go in for all creepy shit, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid! It’s how vampires act!” he whines, wincing at how childish he sounds.

Kuroo laughs derisively. “How many vampires do you know? Keep a roster of us? Have some on retainer?” Bokuto kicks a tree root, but doesn’t answer. “You don’t know shit about us. That’s why you’re here.”

Bokuto kicks the same tree root a few times, hard. Kuroo watches him throw his tantrum with impassive eyes.

When his foot hurts he stops. He slumps on the ground facing Kuroo. “Sorry,” he mutters, averting his eyes, cheeks flushed with shame.

“It’s fine. It’s a lot to process.” Kuroo bites at his lip, and it makes Bokuto’s skin crawl. (For lots of conflicting reasons. It’s kind of _cute,_ for christsake.) “Want me to be weird? I can try being weird.” Bokuto shrugs.

When he finally looks back up at Kuroo, he’s baring his fangs and making his hands into claws. He makes a tentative swipe at Bokuto.

Bukuto grins, against his will. “Quit,” he mutters, unable to look at Kuroo without laughing.

“I just can’t win with you!” Kuroo throws his hands up and slumps against the tree. “Typical human, honestly. I’m just trying to help and all you can do is nag nag nag.”

“Stop!” Bokuto laughs, poking him with his toe.

“Can’t be myself. Can’t be scary. Not sure what he wants from me, really,” Kuroo tells the softly rustling leaves above them.

“Quit it! I’m sorry, okay?” Kuroo pouts up at the trees, turning up his nose. “I’m sorry!”

“No, I’m sure you’ll be better off with some _other_ vampire. Go ahead, just go.” Kuroo throws his hand across his face dramatically.

Bokuto is laughing so hard he can hardly breathe. Oh _god –_ he’s flirting with a vampire.

He’s flirting with a vampire. The vampire is making him laugh, the vampire wants to help him. The vampire thinks he’s pretty. The vampire has seen his dick.

He’s dimly aware that he’s gasping, but he thinks he might still be laughing. But it’s all _too much_. Too much to bear, too much for him to understand. He’s not cut out for this, and he knows it. Does Kuroo know? Does Kuroo know that he’s not what everyone says he is? That he’s only a good Hunter because he’s good at following orders? If anyone ever found out about this he’d be nothing. He’d be so useless he’d have to beg for death and he might not even get it.

He feels tentative fingertips against his back. “Hey, Bokuto, breathe. Put your head between your knees or something.” Bokuto obeys, mindlessly.

Vampires aren’t evil. They aren’t mindless killing machines. They have names and personalities, and probably homes and friends. They have politics and obligations. Some of them have wide, strong hands and beautiful eyes, and soft voices that tell him to _just breathe, relax. You’re okay. You’re okay._

“Shit,” he hears himself say, high and breathless.

“Basically,” Kuroo agrees lightheartedly.

“ _Shit.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for anyone who's left kudos or a comment. They all brighten my day, and it's really fun to work on something I know other people are enjoying.  
> Talk to you all soon!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the amazing comments. You are all awesome. Have some relationship development.

“So vampires have super senses,” Bokuto starts hesitantly. It’s been almost an entire week since Kuroo uprooted his entire life. He’s still not sure how this whole thing works – if he’s doing it right – if he should keep doing at all.

Kuroo nods lazily in answer. As usual, he is completely unaware of Bokuto’s emotional state unless he’s actively exploiting it. He’s leaned against a tree in their little clearing – Bokuto doesn’t like that he’s started to think of it at theirs – passively answering whatever Bokuto asks him.

“So you can – hunt better?” Bokuto doesn’t have as much trouble saying it as he used to.

Kuroo shrugs. “Can’t think of any other reason.”

Bokuto nods, fighting off a yawn. “So how much, exactly, does that change? Can you see better in the dark? Can you hear better? What does blood smell like to you?” Bokuto almost squirms at his own question, but holds Kuroo’s steady gaze.

“Thorough,” Kuroo teases. Bokuto doesn’t respond to that. Kuroo looks him over for a moment before answering. “I think I can see better in the dark than I used to,” Kuroo muses. Bokuto envies his ease. “I don’t really remember what it was like before, to tell you the truth.” Bokuto swallows as he processes that – Kuroo has spent more time being a vampire than Bokuto will probably ever spend alive.

“I must be able to see better,” Kuroo muses, face twisting thoughtfully. “Because I don’t have trouble seeing in the dark as much as humans do.” Bokuto wants to prickle at that – his night-vision scores are _the best_ , literally the best – but he bites his tongue against it. Kuroo is oblivious. “I don’t really think about it anymore. I still get shocked by what I can hear sometimes.” His lips quirk up, at some memory or private joke.

“Yeah?” Bokuto asks, cursing his curiosity when Kuroo’s eyes flash and focus on him.

“One time, not that long after I first got turned, I could hear this like – like screaming? Like this high pitched banshee shit. It woke me up in the middle of the day, on and off for _hours_. I had to wait like _two hours_ til sundown so I could try and find it – I was about crawling out of my skin.” Kuroo pauses dramatically, and Bokuto leans in, hair standing on edge.

“I walked _three miles_ away, to a village, to find out it was a crying baby,” he finishes smugly.

“Three _miles?”_ Bokuto is impressed, and a little fucking creeped.

“I know!” Kuroo laughs, fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I was so like – pissed? Kinda?  I couldn’t believe it could wail like that,” he chuckles. “I never had much experience with kids.”

Bokuto remembers Kuroo’s initial amusement, and his blood runs cold. “What did you do?” He barely manages to keep his voice level.

“Hmm?”

“What did you _do.”_ Bokuto’s chest feels empty and tingly. He rests his hand on his gun, sitting at his waist.

Kuroo’s face twists in bewilderment. “Dude, what-“ He must read the murderous expression in Bokuto’s eyes, because his mouth drops open in surprise. “ _Gross._ I didn’t do anything – it was a _baby.”_

Bokuto deflates – his mind is whirring, trying to reset, while his body is still in fight-or-flight. “Oh,” he says dumbly.

“ _Yeah,”_ Kuroo snarks. “I hung around to see if I could figure out what was wrong with it – it was just like colic or whatever – but I didn’t _eat_ it.” He shivers in disgust at the suggestion, and Bokuto feels an unwelcome stab of guilt.

“Sorry.”

“I didn’t eat _anyone_ there because they were all taking care of the _baby_!” Kuroo says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You know – the _innocent little baby.”_

“You’re _literally_ a vampire,” Bokuto retorts. “I didn’t realize there was like a – a – a _moral code_ or whatever.”

“It’s not a code!” Kuroo says exasperatedly. “It’s just like – basic decency. Shit.” He rolls his eyes and huffs, back hitting the trunk of the tree behind him heavily.

Great. Now Bokuto has a pouting vampire on his hands.

“Sorry,” Bokuto says again.

“We’re not mindless monsters,” Kuroo snaps. “I’ve told you that already.”

“I _know_ ,” Bokuto grumbles, frustration pounding at his temples. “It’s just – cut me a break. It’s still weird.” Bokuto feels Kuroo’s eyes inspecting him, but he pointedly keeps his focus down. Meeting those eyes is still so shocking – the depth, the intensity, the other-worldly beauty, is overwhelming for him.

“I guess,” Kuroo sneers, but it sounds like he’s conceding. An awkward silence stretches between them. Kuroo is still mad. Bokuto can tell, but before he can think of something to say to fix it, he yawns, jaw cracking and eyes watering. Kuroo watches him in amusement.

“Aww. The lil human is feeling sweepy,” Kuroo teases, voice soft and lilting.

Bokuto scowls. “I’m not supposed to be awake.”

“But you just can’t stay away.” Kuroo stretches his legs out in front of him – about six miles long and squeezed into skin-tight, perfectly-fitting pants, _gods_ – and folds his arms around his head. “Am I just that irresistible?”

The tiny little part of Bokuto that hasn’t stopped thinking about their first meeting for a second since it happened whimpers _gods yes._ The more rational and prideful part of him wins out. “I’m here to get information. That’s it,” he says confidently.

Kuroo, in a shocking turn of events, is unconvinced. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bokuto tries to sound intimidating.

“Oh, nothing, sunshine,” Kuroo says airily, waving a hand dismissively. “You should get going. Wouldn’t want your handlers getting suspicious.”

Bokuto prickles at the vampire’s slimy tone, but he’s right. He’s dead tired; the closer it gets to dawn the antsier the guards get, and the harder it gets to sneak back into his apartment.

“Fine,” he grunts, standing and dusting off his pants. “But don’t kid yourself. If you weren’t useful to me I’d kill you in a second.”

Kuroo doesn’t move as Bokuto makes to leave. Just looks up at him impassively. “All right,” he offers as a response.

Bokuto’s skin crawls, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the way the moonlight makes shadows with Kuroo’s eyelashes. “I’m serious,” he insists. “You’re still a vampire.” Kuroo hums, nonchalant. Bokuto scoffs and turns his back.

Kuroo’s parting words – “See you tomorrow, Bokuto,” in a rich, smooth, smiling voice – ring in his ears all the way home.

*

“How’d you become a hunter?” Kuroo asks casually.

Bokuto shrugs, running a rag over the blade of his knife over and over again. It was clean when he started, but even though he’s been spending the midnight hours with Kuroo for a while now, he still feels better having it out. Watching the glint of the blade disappear and reappear under the cloth is still a lot easier than watching the _vampire_.

“C’moooon,” Kuroo whines, leaning forward and putting his head in his hands. “I answer everything you ask me.”

“I’m not a blood-sucking immortal fiend,” Bokuto quips, feeling a less confident than he sounds. That happens a lot around Kuroo. It’s been nearly three whole weeks, and Bokuto has been here with Kuroo almost every one of those nights. He’s sure that Akaashi is suspicious, but he hasn’t said anything. Any time he misses a night he’s sure that Kuroo won’t be there the next night, and all he’ll have are his memories.

For right now though, Kuroo is rolling his eyes at him.  “Why don’t you wanna answer?”

“I don’t want to accidentally give you tactical information you could use to destroy us.”

Kuroo laughs again. (It’s an unnervingly pleasant sound. Bokuto is growing both used to and fond of it. Fuck.) “Wouldn’t that just made me more determined to get it out of you?”

Bokuto feels the tickle of the thrall telling him to _relax let go_ and he grips the knife tighter in his hand. “I wouldn’t fuck with me if I were you.”

The thrall slips away, leaving Bokuto feeling even more tired than he was before and tingly all over. Kuroo chuckles at him. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” he says jovially.

“I didn’t get to be the third best Hunter in the country by sitting on my ass, you know.” He flips the knife over in his hand, catching it by the tip of the blade, then spinning it into the air and catching the handle again in a perfect grip. He completes the cycle a few times, pleased to see Kuroo watching intently.

“Point taken,” Kuroo concedes. “Did you always like playing with knives, then?”

Bokuto shrugs, focusing on the heft and spin of his knife as he catches and throws, catches and throws. “Not really. But my dad had a decent collection of throwing stars. I had a knack for it.”

Kuroo cocks his head to the side. “But you didn’t like it?”

“I liked being good at stuff,” Bokuto admits. Catch and throw, catch and throw.

Kuroo nods thoughtfully – then his eyes flash. Not mischievously, not dangerously, Bokuto notes despite the way his heart flutters. As always, Kuroo looks devastatingly curious. “How old were you when you killed your first vampire?”

Catch. Bokuto eyes Kuroo warily. Kuroo’s expression gives nothing away – he just sits primly, watching him react. Bokuto _hates_ it. “Why do you want to know that?”

“It seems important,” is all Kuroo will offer.

“I’m supposed to be asking you questions.”

Kuroo shrugs. “I’m better at it than you.” He smirks at Bokuto’s indignant noise. “You don’t have to answer, you know.” He flops down onto his back, staring at the cloudy sky above them.

It’s been a very, very long time since Bokuto has had to tell someone the story. It’s been ages since anyone asked. He’s never gotten the chance to tell it honestly.

“I was fourteen,” he starts. Kuroo tenses, but all he does is shift his head so he can see Bokuto better. “It was a little after sunset – early enough that we’re usually safe, especially in the middle of the city. We needed something – maybe like salt or something?” Bokuto laughs – he’d forgotten that part.

“Salt?” Kuroo laughs too. “How do you run out of salt?”

“I know!” he giggles, the memories becoming clearer. “I remember my mom standing over this like, giant thing we kept salt in –“ he illustrates with his arms, “and I don’t think I’d ever seen it empty in my whole life. She just kept looking at it with this like – “ he pulls a face, bewilderment mixed with frustration mixed with utter disbelief. Kuroo laughs again. Bokuto is grinning through the telling of it. “And she just looks at me – my dad was gonna be home from work any minute but we needed to get dinner started – she just looks at me and goes “guess we’ll go to the store then?” Bokuto giggles harder. “I think she felt guilty? Like she just couldn’t believe she forgot to make sure we had salt.” His heart flips fondly at the thought, and then seizes at what comes next.

“Anyway – we were only gonna be gone like ten minutes. I couldn’t let her go alone – not that she couldn’t defend herself or anything, she’s a bad bitch – ‘cause that’s just suicide, ya know?” Bokuto only realizes his mistake after he’s spoken, but Kuroo just nods in agreement. Bokuto licks his lips. “So I grab my dad’s knife and we go. I keep jumping at every little noise, all ready to save the day. It made my mom laugh.

“Make it to the store, no problem. Get the salt, I think she bought me like a – a candy bar or something? God that’s lame,” Bokuto scoffs.

“You were fourteen,” Kuroo points out.

Bokuto shrugs. “I guess. Anyway – walking back home. There’s actually a few other people out, which is usually a good sign.” Bokuto trips over what he wants to say next, and eventually what comes out is, “Vampires tend to stay away from crowds and the inner city, so I figured we were good.”

Kuroo nods slowly. “There usually isn’t much reason to go into the city unless you’re looking for something specific.” His tone is carefully neutral. It still makes Bokuto shiver.

“We’re like a block away from the residential district – real close to the patrols – when we hear something behind us. I whip around, even though I’m like, sure it’s gotta just be a cat. And then I’m staring down my first ever vamp.” Bokuto can barely bring himself to speak above a whisper. “I don’t think my mom even noticed at first – I think she kept walking for a second before she realized I wasn’t with her anymore.

“I was so fucking scared.” He’s told this story a thousand and one times but he’s never been able to say that before. “I was terrified. I was sure I was gonna die, that I was gonna watch my mom get killed. The vamp just kinda sizes me up, and it’s like-“ Bokuto shudders, “it’s like I watched him decide that I wasn’t a threat. He looks right through me, right at my mom.

“She told me to get behind her, but I only know that because she told me later. I was too busy trying not to piss my pants to hear her.” Kuroo huffs out a startled little laugh. “He starts like – like – stalking towards us all slow. All the time in the world.” Bokuto closes his eyes, feel Kuroo’s sharp gaze on him. “I think his eyes looked like yours.

“He walked right by me. Maybe he had the thrall on me, and that’s why I didn’t move. But I just. Stood there while this vampire closed in on my mother.” He buries his head in his hands.

“You were fourteen,” Kuroo says again, gentle.

Bokuto shrugs. “I just didn’t want my mom to die. He got all the way past me, though – like he got so close to me and I still didn’t move.  I think after that I heard him say something? Like some general menacing bullshit I didn’t hear. I think he was talking to my mom.

“I don’t know how or why, but I think I panicked just hard enough to do something. I like –“ he pauses, the sensations almost as visceral now as they were then, “like whipped around and slashed at him. It’s a miracle I got him at all. So he finally gets off my mom, and now he’s looking at _me_. I guess it was lucky I was freaking the fuck out because I think if I had really registered that I’d have just puked or passed out or something.

“I kinda just kept – slicing, I guess. Like, wildly, I can’t believe I hit him at all.” Another detail that no one else has ever heard. “He got in a couple good hits but I think I may have surprised him just enough to save my ass. I had already cut both of his arms and his face when I actually remembered I had to cut off his head. I – I don’t really remember – I think I just kinda rushed him. I’m pretty sure I got the knife wedged in his throat completely by accident – I think I only noticed because it was harder to pull out.” To this day, Bokuto can’t tolerate loud squelching noises. “And – I really don’t remember – but according to my mom I just like ripped the knife across and got his head in like, three cuts. Sounds fake, but the next thing I knew the vampire was dead in front of me and all I could smell was blood.”

Bokuto shakes his head a few times. “I think that’s what I remember the most – the smell. Vampire blood smells different than human. It’s like – cold? Colder and like – like thicker, if that makes sense.” Bokuto laughs a little. “I must have made a shit ton of noise, screaming my fuckin’ lungs out, ‘cause then there’s all these patrol officers and hunters swarming us, asking me what happened. I couldn’t really talk, let my mom handle most of it. All I could think about was if my dad knew where we were.”

It’s a lame ending, but that’s all. Kuroo is the first person ever, in his life, to know the full story. How scared he was, how trapped he’d felt, how certain he’d been that he was going to fail. The first person to know what a coward he really was is a vampire.

Neither of them move or speak for a very long time. Bokuto idly traces the edges of his knife with his fingertips, and Kuroo just keeps staring up at the shifting sky.

He only realizes how long he’s been sitting there when he jerks out of falling asleep. It doesn’t look like Kuroo has noticed. He’s just staring at the clouds, looking calm and content. It’s kind of creepy.

“I should get going,” he mutters, sheathing his knife and standing, dusting leaves and dirt off his hands. Kuroo springs up too, landing silently. Normally Bokuto would tease him for showing off, but tonight he just smiles, a little.

“Cool,” Kuroo replies, sticking his hands in his pockets. This part never gets any less awkward – the leaving. Tonight, Bokuto just turns on his heel and goes.

“Wait – “ Kuroo calls. “Uh.” Bokuto turns back, heart fluttering nervously. Kuroo seems to be chewing on his words, and Bokuto makes an impatient gesture with his hands. “Thanks,” Kuroo blurts. Bokuto feels his eyebrows fly up. “For telling me,” Kuroo clarifies, finally finding his usual confidence. “It’s a good story.”

Bokuto nods slowly, eyeing Kuroo up and down. “Yeah, no problem.” Bokuto takes one last look at the vampire. Messy hair, ripped jeans, and the brightest, clearest, most beautiful eyes Bokuto has ever seen. They don’t look like the other vampire’s eyes at all, really.

“Good night, Kuroo.”

*

“You’re requesting the midnight shift?” Yamiji frowns at him.

Bokuto tries not to shift in his seat. “Yes, sir.”

“You did your grunt work, Bokuto. You know you don’t have to.”

“Of course not, sir.”

Yamiji frowns even harder at him, but Bokuto doesn’t budge. He smiles benignly over the desk at his supervisor, hands folded in his lap. Like a good little boy.

“I can approve it right now,” Yamiji begins hesitantly, “but I’m going to get some odd looks for putting a world-class Hunter on the night shift.”

Bokuto shrugs. “The night shift is the most dangerous. My skills are best used protecting us when we’re most vulnerable.”

Yamiji smiles. “I see. I shouldn’t have doubted you.” He stars making little signatures on the transfer paperwork. Bokuto feels a knot in his shoulders loosen.

He steels himself again and says, “I do have a request though, sir.”

Yamiji looks at him over the tops of his glasses. “What’s that?”

“I don’t want to be put with a partner, or in a patrol. I’d like to be able to move freely in order to figure out why they’ve been getting bolder with their attacks inside the city.” He’s rehearsed that little speech a hundred times and he still almost whiffed it.

Yamiji beams at him. “Excellent initiative, Bokuto. That shouldn’t be a problem.” He writes a few sentences on the bottom of one of the papers. Bokuto tries not to stare. “You’re setting a good example by taking this assignment, Bokuto. We’re all very proud of you.”

Bokuto smiles and stands. His lips feel tight and grimy. “Thank you, sir.”

*

Life kind of stops making sense for a while after that.

Honestly, he’s not sure if he feels worse or better at first. Like, yeah, awesome, his suspicions had been true. But his suspicions had been _true_. And he had to walk and talk and act like nothing had changed, even though his entire way of life was basically a lie. He was sure he’d snap, break down screaming in town square and tell them all it was a lie, that vampires had feelings and felt love and empathy and killing them like animals should have _consequences_.

But he never did. Akaashi watches him carefully, brow furrowed and nose scrunched like he smells something bad, but doesn’t question him. Bokuto tries not to give him a reason to worry. He’s loud, he’s energetic, he’s silly, he’s everything he’s supposed to be. He reports to his shifts on time, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. He explains away his lack of progress in his solo investigation, and claims he runs off into the woods to blow off steam.

And every night, he sneaks out to hang out with a vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have ideas for scenes you'd like to see/questions you want Bokuto and Kuroo to explore for each other, let me know! I'm really open to suggestions.  
> Thanks again for all the lovely comments. It's so fun to write for people who are so cool and are clearly enjoying it. :) See y'all soon, and don't be shy about asking for scenes! I need ideas XD


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Extra long wait, extra long update. Thanks to anyone who left suggestions/curiosities in the comments last chapter! I didn't answer everything, but there's some good world-buildy stuff in here.  
> This chapter is built in scenes that take place chronologically but not necessarily one after the other. This is, essentially, a highlight reel of fun moments. I hope it's fun to read.  
> Contains: mentions of homophobia, internalized homophobia and confronting it, anxiety attacks, mentions of death, mentions of violence, (nothing graphic but there's, you know, vampires), flower crowns, piggyback rides  
> Enjoy! :)

“Do you have a family?”

“Kinda.”

“No one word answers,” Bokuto reminds him.

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “I mean my mom and dad and whatever are like, super dead. Been dead for like…?” He screws up his face as he does the math. “More than a hundred years? So no, I don’t have like – a _family unit_ or whatever.” Bokuto huffs out a little noise without meaning to. “Hmm?” Kuroo asks, turning a little to face him. They’re both lying on their backs, staring up at the night sky. Bokuto is still a little skittish about letting his guard down so far in front of a vampire; rather, he feels like he should feel more skittish but it’s been forever now and Kuroo has never even threatened to hurt him.

“I guess I never thought about what happens to a vampire’s parents or whatever,” he explains.

“Yeah?” Kuroo prompts, turning his gaze back to the sky. Bokuto pulls a few pieces of grass out of the ground and twirls them around his fingers, over and over. The green is bleached out by the gray of the moon.

Bokuto always finds it much easier to talk without Kuroo’s sharp eyes on him. He’s pretty sure Kuroo knows this and uses it to his advantage. “I mean I just never thought about it. We usually just assume someone got eaten, and if they _were_ turned it’s better to assume that person is basically dead. Like, if vampires are just evil then whoever you loved is just gone. But…” Bokuto glances over at Kuroo, who is listening patiently. “You’re probably not all that different than when you were human.”

Kuroo laughs at that, throwing his head back, eyes closed, throat exposed. “I’m _extremely_ different.”

“How so?” (Bokuto doesn’t understand how Kuroo is so _pretty_ sometimes, even though he’s a boy.)

“I was basically a kid when I got turned. I’ve been alive for almost three hundred years now. If I wasn’t any different I’d kill myself.” Kuroo is still chuckling. Bokuto feels himself blush and is glad Kuroo isn’t looking.

“Fair enough.” Bokuto feels the grass in his hands getting weaker and weaker as he manipulates it. It’s stretched thin, already fraying in a few places. “Do you think we would have been friends? If we were both humans?” he finds himself wondering. He can’t stop himself from cutting his eyes over to Kuroo to gauge his reaction.

He looks _sad_. He kind of looks his age, and he looks so upset. Bokuto freezes, heart beating wildly.

“We’re not friends?” Kuroo asks quietly, so quietly Bokuto almost misses it over the blood rushing through his ears. It feels like the air has been sucked from his lungs. This isn’t what he expected. He didn’t expect Kuroo to care – he didn’t expect to care about Kuroo caring. Bokuto hadn’t meant anything by it. He doesn’t really have _any_ friends at the moment, except maybe Akaashi, but Akaashi is different. But _friends_ with a _vampire_? He should feel repulsed by the idea; just a few months ago he would have found it utterly vile. As it is?

He sees Kuroo every day; he goes out of his way, deliberately, to see Kuroo. He knows the way his laugh sounds, he likes making Kuroo laugh. Kuroo makes him laugh too – makes him feel good enough to laugh as much as he wants. Bokuto constantly forgets that Kuroo is a vampire until he sees the points of his teeth glinting in the moonlight. He used to feel sick when he remembered, but he doesn’t anymore. It’s just a fact. 

Bokuto hears a small, stifled noise from Kuroo. He bolts up, staring wide eyed at him – at his best friend.

Who is _laughing his ass off_.

“What the _fuck,”_ Bokuto groans, flopping back onto the grass.

Kuroo _howls_. “You are _so. Fucking. Easy,”_ he says between bursts of laughter. He’s clutching his stomach and rolling around, practically hyperventilating.

“You’re the _worst_.” Bokuto feels himself blushing and covers his face with his hands.

“I fucking _had_ you, dude. Like I had you so fucking good.” Kuroo snorts. “Your fucking _face!”_

“I thought you were upset!” Bokuto’s face is hot beneath his hands.

“ _I know!”_

“Okay – ” Bokuto rolls over to Kuroo and flops down on top of him, bearing down with all this weight. Kuroo _oofs_ and tries to shove Bokuto away, still laughing. Bokuto can feel his stomach clench and bounce beneath him. It makes him a little giddy.  

“Dude, you’re heavy get off.” Kuroo pushes at him halfheartedly.

“Not until you apologize,” Bokuto grins. He feels Kuroo buck under him and he bears down harder, smirking.

Kuroo grits his teeth, and Bokuto can hear him thinking. He gets his feet under him and lifts up with his hips, actually managing to dislodge Bokuto. Bokuto just flips Kuroo over to his stomach and sits on his back. Kuroo cranes his neck around to glare at him, but Bokuto just smiles serenely.

“Ass,” Kuroo grunts as he rolls. Bokuto slips, and Kuroo lunges, throwing all of his weight on top of Bokuto. It’s almost effective. Bokuto pins him again easily, forearms slung across Kuroo’s thighs. Kuroo grins, slipping free and lunging at Bokuto’s shoulders. Bokuto’s competitive streak flares hotly and he grins. He rolls easily, so Kuroo just slips past him. Bokuto dives while he’s off balance, shoving him back to the ground. Bokuto crawls on top of him, sitting on his hips and pinning his wrists above his head. Kuroo yanks a few times, but Bokuto has him. Kuroo looks mad, and his hair is crazier than ever. Bokuto, panting for breath, laughs in his face.

“Ugh. Whatever. You win,” Kuroo pouts, making Bokuto laugh harder.

“So you’ll apologize?” Bokuto smirks down at Kuroo, heart pulsing, still panting a little.

Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’m sorry you’re a big gullible twat.”

“If you want to get out of here before sunrise you’re gonna have to do better than that,” Bokuto snarks, bearing down. Kuroo feels less sturdy than he’d imagined – not that he’s frail, but Bokuto’s hands circle his wrists easily, and his waist is tapered and slender beneath him.

“ _Fine_ sorry I tricked you,” Kuroo laughs. “Get off me you weigh like 300 pounds.”

Something hungry flares in Bokuto’s gut. He can’t help it, not with Kuroo finally trapped and fragile beneath him. “Not until you admit we’re friends,” he demands triumphantly.

Kuroo’s laugh die instantly, but his smile is frozen. “What?”

“Admit we’re friends,” Bokuto says defiantly. He can’t remember ever seeing Kuroo’s eyes this close.

Kuroo squirms a little, still half-smiling. “I mean, whatever, sure – just get off –“

“Are we not friends?” Bokuto presses, squeezing with his thighs so Kuroo can’t go anywhere.

Kuroo gapes up at him. Bokuto waits anxiously. Kuroo’s eyes roam all over his face, darting down to his neck where Bokuto knows his pulse is throbbing visibly. Still, Bokuto waits.

“I – shit. I guess we are friends,” Kuroo says. “Now get off me.” Bokuto would _swear_ he’s blushing.

Bokuto grins, genuinely this time. “Cool.” He rolls off Kuroo, but doesn’t go far. The air between them is still tense, but it’s good. Alive and warm and close. Bokuto can’t stop smiling. He folds his arms behind his head while his heart rate slows. Next to him, Kuroo is completely still. Bokuto can tell he’s thinking about something, but Kuroo is taking his sweet time.

Bokuto has almost nodded off by the time Kuroo says, “I don’t really have a family. I have people I care about – that care about me, but it’s not a family.”

“Mm?” Bokuto prompts. “Yeah?” His body is heavy and slow, in a good way. “Tell me.”

Kuroo hesitates, but Bokuto nudges him with his shoulder. “There’s really only one worth mentioning,” he admits.

Bokuto rolls onto his side to watch Kuroo. “Tell me.”

Kuro smiles while he talks. “His name is Kenma. He’s – pretty solitary, it’s amazing we’ve stuck together this long. I’m not totally sure why he keeps me around,” Kuroo says good-naturedly. “He’s kinda small, and quiet. But he’s smart as a whip. He’s gotten us out of more scrapes than I can remember.” His eyes are fiercely fond, hand shifting as he talks. “He’s one of those vampires that seems like he’s just bored and over-it – like, just so fucking old and sick of the whole thing – but he’s not, not really. He just doesn’t like many people, but he’s _really_ good at reading them – like, don’t _ever_ lie to him, he’ll rat you out in a second.” Kuroo laughs; Bokuto gets the sense that there’s some inside joke or memory behind it. Kuroo’s voice turns incredibly fond and soft. “He’d hate it if he heard me talking about him. He hates mushy shit.”

The warmth in his tone makes Bokuto smile. “He sounds great.”

“Maybe you’ll meet him someday.” Kuroo immediately bites his lip and avoids Bokuto’s gaze, as if he regrets what he said. Bokuto feels warm all over.

“Maybe.”

*

“Do you need to sleep?”

“Nope. I haven’t slept since I was human. We can kinda like…half-nap though.”

“Weird. Is the sun like, insta-death?”

“No? There’s no exact science to it but I’ve lasted for like a minute or so just after sunrise or sunset. No one wants to risk experimenting though.”

“How long can you go between feedings?”

“At least a month, but it doesn’t feel good.”

“Can you eat food?”

“Just blood. We can eat food but it just kinda makes us sick.”

 “…Does that mean vampires poop?”

Kuroo laughs so hard he chokes. “ _Gross,”_ he manages, shoving at Bokuto’s shoulder.

“Do they?” Bokuto insists, laughing too.

“Sometimes. Happy, you fuckin’ perv?”

“I’m not a perv! I need to know! For science!” Bokuto insists, brandishing the flower chain he’s making.

“Whatever, freak.”

When Bokuto had gotten to their spot, Kuroo looked like he’d been posted up for a while. He was surrounded by tons of late summer flowers, tiny, delicate little blooms that he must have picked up on his way. He had one chain wrapped around his wrist already. Bokuto had raised an eyebrow at him, but Kuroo just shrugged and continued working. Bokuto sat beside him and hesitantly started on a chain of his own, picking deep purple ones from the pile Kuroo had gathered. They’d worked in silence for a while until Kuroo reached over to correct his knot tying. _Gently_ , he’d said, smoothing his hands across Bokuto’s wrists and guiding him. Bokuto had felt his heart stop, and needed to talk just to clear his head. He’d blurted the first thing that came to his head, which was, stupidly, do vampires need to sleep. He’d already known the answer, but Kuroo didn’t seem to find it strange.

Bokuto inspected his flower chain as he thought of what to ask next. There was a question burning in his mind, but he didn’t know if it was taboo.

“You can ask,” Kuroo pipes up, without looking. He’s finished a second bracelet and is adjusting it so it sits prettily with the first on his wrist.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“No,” Kuroo admits, picking up a bundle of pure white flowers, “but it’s fine. I can tell you have a question.”

Bokuto swallows and looks back to his own flower chain. “How did you get turned?”

Kuroo’s movements pause, but his face doesn’t give anything away. “I can see why you hesitated.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“It’s not that,” Kuroo says carefully, hands moving slowly and delicately over the flower chain. It’s a move intricate pattern than the ones before. “I’m afraid of what you’ll think,” he admits, sounding surprised that that’s the truth.

Bokuto’s instincts flare brightly, urging him to dig. He suppresses it, for now. “Why would I judge you?”

“It might be difficult for a human to understand. I found it difficult, before I was turned.”

Bokuto nearly has to sit on his hands to keep from fidgeting. “I won’t get mad or anything. Promise.”

Kuroo glances at him with a little smile. “Remember, you promised,” he teases, before turning his focus back to his flowers.

“Kenma is my sire.”

Bokuto feels his whole body tense, blood rising. “Like…he’s the reason you’re a vampire?”

Kuroo shakes his head lightly. “Not exactly. That was technically someone else.”

Bokuto bites the inside of his cheek, hard, to clear his head. “You’re right, I am having trouble understanding,” he says carefully. “I thought you said he was like your family.”

“Let me finish,” Kuroo says, harshness catching at the edges of his tone. He takes a slow breath, adjusting and inspecting the knots he’s already made. “Kenma saved me. I know it might not seem that way to you, but he was doing what he thought was best.” Kuroo frowns at his flowers. “Short version or long version?”

“Long version,” Bokuto says immediately.

Kuroo smirks. “It’s not all that interesting,” he warns, setting back against a tree and picking out a few more flowers to add to his chain. Bokuto focuses on his flower chain, but only barely.

“I wasn’t a very adventurous kid. I did what was asked of me, no more, no less. Not like you,” Kuroo says with a fond look at Bokuto. Bokuto bites his tongue against the questions and the idiotic smile he feels rising. “I went out hunting by myself – usually I would have taken someone with me but I figured I was plenty old enough to handle myself.” Kuroo snorts out a laugh. “I was gonna bag one deer, or a boar, and go home.

“Nasty vamp outside the village had other plans, though. It’s like she was waiting for me.” Kuroo spares Bokuto a glance. “Oh – you know humans didn’t always live in big cities, right?”

Bokuto nods. His city with walls and guards and rules had only existed for a few generations. Kuroo had been human long ago.

Kuroo reaches over to adjust Bokuto’s hands on his flowers again, smiling when he sees the neatness of the chain. “Well, this vampire must have been waiting for an easy target. You called it thrall?” Kuroo asks, suddenly. Bokuto needs a second to catch up, and nods hastily. His flower chain is getting messy, and he forces himself to slow down.

“Well she didn’t use it. She fought like nothing I’d ever seen.” Kuroo doesn’t look scared at the memory, only impressed. “I tried to fight back, which I guess was my mistake. I scratched her a couple times, but she got me back worse. Her blood god all over me though.” Bokuto nods – when vampire blood and human blood mix inside the veins, a vampire is made. “She drank what she needed and left without killing me.”

Bokuto frowns. “Doesn’t that make her your sire?”

Kuroo shakes his head no. “Technically she should have, but not enough of her blood got in me. I was gonna turn into a wraith.”

The way Kuroo says it makes Bokuto shiver. “What’s that?”

Kuroo frowns sharply, and then seems to catch himself. “I guess they just look like ugly vampires to you,” he reasons. “So…let’s say that vampires are halfway between life and death. Humans on one of the scale, death on the other.” Bokuto nods. “Wraiths are on the dead end of the spectrum. No higher brain function, more like animals than anything else, but they’re crazy blood thirsty. They can live on anything, including vampires.”

Bokuto nods, remembering some creature like that from his early days as a hunter. It had torn through the city, ravaging everything in its path before it was cornered and blown to bits. Bokuto had never seen something so hideous and twisted. The thought of Kuroo being reduced to that, forced into that, makes him so sick that bile rises in his throat.

“Not that I even really knew what a wraith was at the time,” Kuroo continues. “All I knew was…” He clears his throat, shaken for the first time. “Everything was pain. Couldn’t move, couldn’t shout for help, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. I have no idea how long that lasted.” Kuroo bites at his lips.

Bokuto shivers and tries not to think about it, but he doesn’t do a very good job. The images flash through his mind as quickly as he dismisses them; Kuroo, young, scared, alone, twisted in agony, terrified to die, terrified he’d never die, that the pain would never stop. He reaches a hand out to Kuroo’s knee, squeezing gently, as much for his own reassurance as Kuroo’s.

Kuroo puts his hand on top of Bokuto’s and squeezes back briefly. “Kenma had to fill me in on what happened next. He said he smelled me – he thought I was some butchered deer. I’d been in the forest so long that I didn’t smell human anymore.” Kuroo’s hands weave smoothly over his flowers, belying the horror of his words. “He said he tried to talk to me, get me to speak, but I couldn’t hear him. He could tell I was young, and that a vampire had gotten me. He knew there wasn’t much time left – he either had to turn me or kill me. He said figured he could always kill me later if I didn’t want to be a vampire, so he did it right there.”

Kuroo frowns. “He’s never really explained why he didn’t kill me. He says he doesn’t really know. He just felt like I still had something left to do.” Kuroo cuts his eyes over to Bokuto nervously. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes plenty of sense,” Bokuto assures him, nudging him with his shoulder. Kuroo smiles gratefully, and Bokuto can’t help but smile back (not that he’d want to resist).

Kuroo takes a deep breath and blows it out through his lips. “That’s about it. Kenma took me home, waited for me to come to, and explained everything to me. I was pretty much ready to die, but he told me to give it forty eight hours, and then he’d kill me if I still wanted.” Kuroo smiles fondly. “I guess I just…never got around to asking him to kill me.”

Kuroo seems content to leave it there. Bokuto is burning with questions, but settles for focusing on his flower crown. It’s looking a little beat up, but it’s not bad for his first attempt in fifteen years. Kuroo is looking intently at his own chain, fussing over it, but it looks perfect to Bokuto. Each link is even, and the flowers all sit neatly in double stacked rows. Bokuto had never known that Kuroo could be so good with his hands. He immediately has to banish that thought, all the way to hell where it will never find him, so he blurts something else out.

“What was your first kill like?” Bokuto immediately flushes and backtracks. “I’m sorry – that’s probably really insensitive, huh? You don’t have to tell me, I don’t know why I said tha-“

“It’s fine,” Kuroo interrupts smoothly. “I can tell you.” Bokuto hesitates, eyes darting over to Kuroo nervously. Kuroo is watching him, a trace of his usual smugness in his eyes. “If you actually want to know, I can tell you.” Kuroo turns his attention back to his flowers. “It’s not that bad.”

Bokuto feels his heart start to race. Can he hear about it? Can he stand to listen to it? Can he listen to Kuroo describe the first time he took a human life? He’d listened patiently when Bokuto had told Kuroo about killing a vampire, but he’d seemed to understand that that was different. Kuroo is waiting patiently for his answer, working on his flowers. He doesn’t look capable of killing anything, right now.

But that isn’t fair, he reminds himself. He can’t just take the parts of Kuroo that he wants and ignore the rest. That’s not what being friends means.

So he steels himself and says, “If you don’t mind telling me, I’d like to hear it.”

Kuroo scrutinizes him, deeply, but Bokuto meets his eyes steadily. Kuroo nods once, face blank.

“I avoided killing for a long time.” Bokuto has to cover his shock at that. “Mostly I’d just use the thrall and drink what I needed and go.” Kuroo chuckles darkly. “I’m kind of a pathetic vampire in lots of circles, since I still don’t kill to feed often.” Bokuto holds onto that thought as Kuroo continues.

“I’d been a vampire for – oh, six months or so? I was still living with Kenma while he showed me the ropes. He’d explain what I needed to know, make sure I ate on time, got me out of the house. I think that last one is because he was sick of me moping around,” he laughs, rolling his eyes skyward. “I guess I wanted to prove I could live on my own – dipshit idea, really, don’t know what I was thinking – so I figured I’d strike out on my own for a while and come back. Kenma didn’t stop me, just told me to be careful.

“So I set out. I just wandered around, honestly. It felt good, for a while, being on my own, being out in the open again. Got bored of roughing it after like three days, though. I was on my way back-“

“Back?” Bokuto interrupts.

“Oh – to the city – vampires have cities too. I guess I never mentioned it before. I still live in the city Kenma first brought me back to. Lots of us do,” he explains quickly. Bokuto _burns_ with questions, but he knows they’ll have to wait. He nods, encouraging Kuroo to continue.

“I…smelled something.” Kuroo shakes his head, dissatisfied. “That’s the best way I can describe it, but it was a hundred times stronger. It was like…calling me. I realized later that I didn’t even try to resist it. At the time it didn’t even occur to me that I’d be able to, and I didn’t want to. It smelled so good.

“It was a human. He was all alone, and he must have cut himself because I could smell him so clearly, even from far away. The closer I got the better it smelled though. But there was something off about it. It didn’t make sense for him to be alone and I just had this…sense?” Kuroo shrugs blithely. “I knew something was off so I just watched. He was sorting some stuff, at first it looked like his, but then I saw a woman’s dress, a few toys, some clothes that clearly wouldn’t have fit him.”

“He was a bandit,” Bokuto guesses.

Kuroo shrugs. “I’ve always assumed so, but I didn’t really have any way of knowing. But I trusted my gut, and there went any guilt.” Kuroo pauses, looking at Bokuto warily. “Have I ever told you how much better human blood is than animal?” he says carefully, hesitantly. Bokuto’s back straightens instinctively, but he just shakes his head and waits for Kuroo to continue.

“It’s…it’s a _lot_ better,” he says lamely, eyes far away as he tries to explain. “Animal blood is fine, it gets the job done, but it’s rarely enjoyable. Human blood is…” Kuroo exhales, eyes sharpening. “It’s so fucking intoxicating that sometimes I wonder how I ever go a day without it,” he confesses hoarsely.

Bokuto shivers and is suddenly acutely aware of how thin the skin of his neck is, how much of a temptation it must be for Kuroo every second they’re together. His heart aches even as his hands tremble in fear. He tries not to let Kuroo see.

“I drained him dry,” Kuroo says forcefully, shaking himself. “I don’t think he felt anything – the thrall can actually cause total paralysis when used to its full extent, so as far as he’s concerned he just got very tired very quickly.” Kuroo looks at Bokuto, a little sheepishly – _embarrassed._ Bokuto’s heart aches again. “And that’s it, I guess. Kenma could tell when I got back. He told me I looked healthy.” Kuroo chuckles a little, but he doesn’t offer anything more.

Bokuto nods, attaching the ends of his flower crown together. It looks damn good, honestly. He fiddles over it, adjusting the spacing of a few knots here and there. “Thanks for telling me.”

Kuroo is nearly done with his own crown too. It’s magnificent, all different kinds of flowers twisted together delicately. “You’re not mad?” he says hesitantly.

“I – I know what you are,” Bokuto says firmly. “You’re a vampire. You shouldn’t feel guilty about needing to eat.” He’s half convincing himself as he talks. “Humans aren’t perfect – we’re not sacred, and we have flaws. We can be awful, too.” He turns to Kuroo, who is staring back at him, lips parted in shock. _Pretty._ “That you try not to kill is pretty awesome, Kuroo.” Kuroo snorts derisively, an awful, ugly sound. He looks like he’s on the verge of panicking. Bokuto doesn’t like it – he likes the Kuroo who smiles at him, makes fun of him, not the Kuroo who’s scared and defensive.

Bokuto does the only thing he can think of – he puts his completed flower crown on Kuroo’s head. “We’re friends,” Bokuto insists, adjusting it over his hair and ignoring the little thrill he gets in his chest when he feels how _soft_ it is. “We’re friends now. That’s what matters.”

Kuroo’s eyes go wide as Bokuto crowns him. He freezes, letting Bokuto fuss over it. Bokuto feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment, but he doesn’t back down. The purple is a bright contrast to his dark hair, and his fringe pokes over the top of it. Bokuto can’t help a little smile – Kuroo looks soft and gentle, sweet, in a way he normally never lets himself look.

“Okay?” Bokuto asks gently. Kuroo is still staring at him with wide eyes.

Kuroo snaps out of it suddenly, looking back to his own flower crown. “Yeah,” he says softly, tying the back of the crown together skillfully. He looks back at Bokuto, a strange sort of half smile on his lips. “Yeah, okay,” he whispers, leaning forward to put his crown on Bokuto’s head.

Bokuto stares at the crown for hours after he gets home. He leaves it on his bedside table and stares at it before he goes to sleep every day, wondering if Kuroo does the same. When it starts to wilt he presses it between the pages of an old book of poetry Akaashi gave him that he never read much of. It’s his own little secret that he finds a poem about rich brown earth and amber skylines to preserve the flowers.

*

“Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto?”

“What if I have a crush on someone?”

Akaashi doesn’t look up from the oversized crossword puzzle he’s doing on their kitchen table. His pencil just taps a little more slowly on the edge of the paper.

“What do you mean?” Akaashi responds eventually.

Bokuto tries not to fidget, and above all tries not to blush. “I mean I think – I might have a crush on someone,” he says casually. Nailed it.

“Has that never happened before?” Akaashi asks carefully. Bokuto is grateful for the way he keeps his eyes fixed on his puzzle.

“Well – I mean – sort of, I guess,” he stutters.

“Sort of?” Akaashi prompts, making a few notes in the corner of his paper.

“This one feels a little different,” Bokuto hedges, chewing on his bottom lip the way his father always hated.

“How so?” Akaashi’s patience is suddenly endless, and Bokuto almost wishes he’d snap at him.

“I think I have a crush on a boy.”                     

Akaashi’s pencil stills. Bokuto watches him take a deep breath. Bokuto’s heart is beating so hard he’s sure Akaashi can hear it. There doesn’t seem to be any other sound in the kitchen.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says calmly, finally looking up at him. “I’m flattered, but I don’t return those feelings for you.”

Bokuto chokes. “It’s not you, Kaashi!” He can’t help but laugh. Just a year ago his biggest problem probably had been his unrequited crush on Akaashi. Now it’s having a possibly requited crush on a _vampire_.

Akaashi laughs too, dropping his pencil and sitting back in his chair. “Oh thank _god_ , Koutarou,” he giggles. “I’ve always been afraid you-“

“I mean I kinda used to but it never felt-“

“I know, it would have been so weird-“

“ _Weird_ , exactly,” Bokuto laughs. The mood between them is suddenly easy, light and fresh and Bokuto could cry. Akaashi picks up his pencil again and takes a sip of his coffee, now appraising Bokuto carefully.

“So you have a crush on…a boy?” Akaashi leads, hooded eyes going sly. Bokuto can tell he’s curious despite his neutral tone. Bokuto nods, picking at the place Kuroo’s thumb had stroked over the back of his hand just a few hours ago, before the sun rose, when it was them in their own little world. Talking about it with Akaashi is like whiplash.

“Is it serious?” Akaashi prompts.

Bokuto flushes. Damn it. “I don’t know.” A sticky feeling crawls back into his stomach.

Akaashi raises his eyebrow skeptically. “You usually aren’t this tight-lipped.”

Bokuto swallows. “Well it’s – it’s not really…It’s abnormal. Isn’t it?” Bokuto feels his heart sink. If only Akaashi knew just how fucked up Bokuto really is.

Akaashi takes a deep breaths and makes a few more notes on his crossword page before answering. “That’s complicated,” he says eventually. Bokuto impatiently bounces his leg and waits for the rest. Akaashi glances up at him, but continues to talk as he works. “You’re free to do what you like as long as you’re unmarried.”

“I know that, Keiji,” Bokuto snaps childishly.

Akaashi glances at him again. Bokuto shrinks from the pity in his gaze. “Then you also know that you need to be focused on your duty,” Akaashi says firmly. “It’s especially important for you _,_ in particular, to have children. Your genes are too good to waste on delinquencies.” Bokuto hangs his head, bile rising in his throat. “Many people experience same-sex attraction in their youth, but settle down eventually.” Bokuto forces himself to nod. His entire body feels numb and empty. “But until then,” Keiji continues, hope at the edges of his tone, “you’re free to do what you want. And you wouldn’t be the first hunter to do as they please after their children are born.” Akaashi averts his eyes in embarrassment.

“Yeah,” Bokuto replies, almost proud of the way his voice sounds normal. “I get it.” His skin feels too small. He stands suddenly, bumping the table and almost spilling Akaashi’s coffee. “I should go for a run,” he says decisively, crossing to the door and shoving his tennis shoes onto his feet.

“Okay,” Akaashi says, sounding pale. Bokuto has his hand on the doorknob when Akaashi says, “Don’t freak out. It’s really not a big deal.” Bokuto lets his head thunk against the door. Guilt grabs him so tight he’s sure Akaashi can smell it on him like sweat.

“Just talk to him. I’m sure he’ll understand,” Akaashi says soothingly. “It’s not the end of the world, Bo, really. You’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto croaks, tears welling in his eyes. He opens the door and throws, “Thanks, Kaashi,” over his shoulder as he slams it behind him.

*

“Long day?”

Bokuto grunts. He’s entered their clearing later than usual, and he hadn’t said anything as he dropped to the ground, pressing his face into his hands. His heart is beating, but it’s like the blood isn’t moving. He knows it’s thumping against his chest because he can _feel_ it, but he still feels so numb everywhere. His hands are shaking and he wishes he could cry but he’s afraid to – he’s afraid it would never stop. He shouldn’t have come here, he should have stayed away tonight, he shouldn’t be doing this, he can’t –

“Bokuto?” Kuroo asks, sounding nervous. Bokuto feels him press a cool hand along Bokuto’s back. “What’s wrong, buddy?” Bokuto knows that Kuroo can tell he’s quaking, uncontrollably.

“Nothing,” he says tightly. He’d been in control all day, so careful, so closed off. Now, with Kuroo’s sharp eyes on him he feels split open, bare. Kuroo has always been able to read him so easily, he should have known that now wouldn’t be any different. _Stupid stupid stupid,_ he’s weak, he’s pathetic.

“Bo?” Kuroo asks again. Bokuto feels his breath hitch, a sob clawing at his throat. “Bo, talk to me.”

“I – I can’t,” he says, throat constricting, tears falling from his eyes. He curls into a ball, unable to do anything more than that, even though his body is begging him to _run run run_.

“Did someone hurt you?” Kuroo sounds alarmed. He pushes and prods at Bokuto to sit up – Bokuto is powerless to resist, shame and embarrassment making him weak. “Bo, where are you hurt? What’s wrong?” He sounds so _worried_ – Bokuto feels bile rise in his throat.

“I’m _fine_.” He grabs Kuroo’s hands, but can’t meet his eyes. He stares at Kuroo’s clean, cool hands, sullied by his dirty ones. “I just had a bad day, that’s all.” A few hot tears fall from his eyes, landing on their skin. He can tell the temperature is even hotter to Kuroo.

“Dude, you can tell me, we’re _friends_ ,” Kuroo insists, squeezing their hands together as Bokuto tries to pull away. “Whose ass do I need to kick, buddy?” Kuroo asks playfully, but Bokuto can still hear him panicking.

Kuroo’s amber eyes are burning so bright, so genuinely – they promise comfort and peace. It’s too tempting to refuse.

He collapses forward into Kuroo’s arms, burying his face into his shoulder. He feels Kuroo tense momentarily, but he feels unable to do anything but cry. He sobs harder with Kuroo wraps him in his arms, rubbing his back.

“Shh,” Kuroo murmurs to him. “Shh, shh, you’re okay, Bo.”

“She’s dead,” he manages to say, mumbling into Kuroo’s shirt where his tears have soaked through the fabric. “She wanted to be like me and now she’s dead. It’s my fault, Kuroo.” The admission make his chest tighter, his breath draw shorter.

“Bokuto, calm down,” Kuroo implores. Bokuto shakes his head violently, as Kuroo holds onto him tighter. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”

But he doesn’t understand – he can’t understand. He’d never say that if he knew. Bokuto pushes Kuroo away, wrapping his arms around himself and trying to stop crying. He’s so weak, and useless. He’s a top tier vampire hunter reduced to a pathetic display about a girl he hardly knew, in front of his only friend in the world, a vampire. Pathetic. Entirely pathetic.

“You’re not pathetic, Bokuto,” Kuroo says, and Bokuto bites his tongue, realizing what he’d been saying. “What ever happened it wasn’t your fault.”

“You can’t know that,” Bokuto says miserably, coughing as his chest contracts.

“I definitely can’t if you won’t tell me what happened,” Kuroo counters as he grabs onto Bokuto’s arm, shaking him slightly. “Please, Bo, calm down. Who’s dead?”

“Her name is Ara,” Bokuto manages. He hasn’t panicked all day, not once since he heard, but now that he’s having to say it out loud, instead of just hearing about it, it feels immediate again. “She’s a Hunter, she’s _nineteen._ She wasn’t with her patrol, she ran off by herself – she thought she could handle it on her own.”

Kuroo swears under his breath. “Bokuto I’m sorry.”

“I should have told her when we met.” Bokuto looks up at Kuroo – he’s horrified. “That I – that I’m not – I should have told her – she was so _brave_.” Kuroo turns watery in his vision as his eyes well again.

“That’s not your fault,” Kuroo says again, grabbing onto Bokuto’s shoulders. “She was doing her job, the same way you do yours.”

“I hate my job!” Bokuto screams, bolting away from Kuroo’s touch. “I hate being a Hunter!” he rails, blood pounding. He knows he’s completely out of control but he _needs to say it,_ he can’t make himself stop. “I hate it. We hide in the shadows and set traps and murder, just like vampires do, and then we pretend we’re better for it? Pretend we have some kind of morality?” Bokuto pulls at his hair. “It’s _sick_ , Kuroo, _I’m_ sick.” His voice breaks and he falls back onto his heels, out of breath, tears still streaming down his face.

Kuroo shakes his head calmly. “You do what you need to do to protect your families.”

“How can you say that?” Bokuto demands angrily. “I’m a _vampire hunter,_ Kuroo. How can _you_ sit there and say that?”

“I have no delusions about what I am,” Kuroo says firmly, eyes harsh and bright. “And I know what you are, too. I can’t hold that against you.”

“What if I hold it against you?” Bokuto shoves a hand into Kuroo’s chest, knocking him back. “You’re still a vampire. You probably know whoever – whoever killed Ara.” His voice cracks embarrassingly.

Kuroo watches him impassively, his face a cold mask. “Do you blame me?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Bokuto spits, grabbing at Kuroo’s shirt and shaking him.

Kuroo stares him down coldly. “Because you’re better than that.”

Bokuto laughs, a high, wild, ugly sound from his gut, throwing Kuroo away from him. “I’m not, Kuroo. I’m a piece of shit, just like the rest of them.” Bokuto feels the tears sliding down his face, feels his chest get so tight, he can’t get enough air, he can’t stop crying, can’t stop digging his nails into his hands. “I’ve killed plenty. I’ve got blood on my hands, just like the rest of them. I used to _like it_ , Kuroo. I liked killing, I liked taking life. Don’t let me trick you, I’m just as fucked up as the rest of them. And now a teenage girl is dead.” Bokuto’s voice breaks. “She’s dead because I wasn’t strong enough to save her.” He curls forward, wrapping his arms around his knees, choking on the tears.

Kuroo shuffles closer and pulls him into his arms but it doesn’t help. Nothing helps, not that he deserves it. He’s suffocating, which is only right, worthless waste of space, useless piece of shit. His muscles ache from trembling and shaking. Kuroo is holding him tightly, whispering to him, saying something, rubbing his back, but it all feels so far away, incomprehensible.

And then a wall breaks. That’s the only way he can understand it – a brick wall tumbling down and light suddenly flooding over him and through him. He feels himself a deep shuddering breath, and it feels so good that it makes him cry all over again in sheer relief. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears, but it’s slowing now, returning to something steady, strong – something that just means he’s alive. The warm light trickles through him, blocking out everything else. All he knows is his heartbeat, the light, and Kuroo’s arms around him. Eventually, it’s like his ears click on again, and he can hear Kuroo’s voice too.

“Shh,” Kuroo is murmuring to him still. “You’re okay, Bo. Shhh.”

“I’m okay,” Bokuto answers, voice hoarse and sticky.

Kuroo tenses, momentarily. Then he rubs his hands briskly on Bokuto’s back and arms. “Course you are,” Kuroo says warmly.

Bokuto blinks, hard, digging his face into Kuroo’s warm shoulder. The warm light is turning him fuzzy, making him sleepy…It feels familiar, somehow.

“Did you do something to me?” he manages past his thick tongue.

Bokuto feels Kuroo’s throat work over a swallow. “Yeah. The uh – the thrall?” Kuroo asks. Bokuto nods lazily, nuzzling into Kuroo again. He smells good. “I thought it might help,” he explains.

Bokuto takes another deep breath, noticing how Kuroo’s arms rise and fall around him with the motion. “It did,” Bokuto tells him gratefully. Kuroo hums, and the feeling fades.

It its wake is only quiet. Quiet inside him, quiet between the two of them, quiet all around.

“It’s amazing humans have survived this long,” Bokuto remarks distantly.

Kuroo laughs through his nose; Bokuto can feel it ruffle his hair. “What?”

“If vampires can do this,” Bokuto stretches lazily for emphasis, “why haven’t vampires totally conquered yet?”

Kuroo considers it for a moment. “Too much work, probably.”

Bokuto giggles, surprised. “Seriously?” He pulls back to look at Kuroo. “That’s why?”

Kuroo shrugs, letting his arms fall to rest on Bokuto’s waist. His hands are big – Bokuto feels himself flush a little. Kuroo notices and smirks. Bokuto ducks his head, cheeks flaming. “Sorry,” Kuroo laughs, letting his hands fall away completely, leaning back and stretching out in the moonlight. Bokuto feels cold without him so close. Bokuto leans back too, trying to find somewhere to settle his eyes that isn’t Kuroo’s long legs or long neck or long fingers or long eyelashes.

“I uh,” Kuroo starts, suddenly looking abashed. “I didn’t really know it could be used to soothe,” Kuroo admits. “The thrall, I mean. I don’t know anyone who’s ever tried.” Kuroo huffs out another laugh. “At least, I don’t know anyone well enough who would have told me.”

Bokuto frowns. “Don’t vampires tell each other things?”

“I suppose we do,” Kuroo hedges with another shrug. “Important things. When you guys figured out guns, that was big news. And friends tell each other things, just like humans do. But stuff like this?” Kuroo nudges Bokuto’s leg with his. “No. Not unless it was important.”

“Why?”

Kuroo smirks wryly. “For the same reason you haven’t told anyone about me,” he murmurs, low and snide. Bokuto flushes again, looking down at his hands.

“So vampires aren’t supposed to be friends with humans either,” Bokuto muses. His heart sinks at the thought, at the inescapable pressure from both sides.  

“I guess friends is a complicated word,” Kuroo says thoughtfully, tilting his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “Like it’s not uncommon for vampires to take – uh,” he stammers, “pets?” Kuroo says it like he’s apologizing. Bokuto must make a face, because Kuroo hurries to explain. “It’s usually not involuntary. Not like – they’re not slaves or anything. But they’re not – equals…” he trails off.

Bokuto nods. He’s heard of humans sneaking away to live with vampires before. A few months ago it was unthinkable – now it didn’t seem so bad.

“Pets?” Bokuto prompts, knocking his foot against Kuroo’s leg.

Kuroo relaxes, fractionally. “They’re – well they’re a food source, obviously. But they’re companions as well. Sometimes they leave after a while – don’t know what happens to them after that – but usually they choose to stay.” Bokuto’s eyebrows fly up, mouth dropping open involuntarily. “I know,” Kuroo laughs, “but it’s true.”

Bokuto takes a deep breath to process that. Living among the vampires? Forever? Like some kind of glorified snack pack? It’s not a happy thought...but he has to admit that he understands the draw. Leaving human life behind is more and more appealing by the day. It’s probably worth the occasional prick in the neck.

Bokuto still feels sleepy and warm. Almost drunk. “Hey Kuroo?” he finds the courage to ask.

“Yeah?”

“Have you wanted to tell anyone about me?” He tries to sound as casual as possible, but he’s probably betrayed by the way he’s twisting his hands. He risks a glance up at Kuroo. Kuroo’s eyes are wide, mouth open slightly – he’s surprised by the question, but not angry. Kuroo inhales slowly, and Bokuto can watch his chest rise and fall.

“I told Kenma,” he admits eventually. “That’s it.” Kuroo’s dark eyes watch Bokuto calmly, watching him react. Bokuto lets himself smile.

Bokuto lies back on the grass, tucking his arms behind his head. He stiffens in shock when Kuroo shifts and shuffles to lie down beside him, mirroring his pose.

“Moon’s pretty tonight,” Kuroo remarks quietly, voice soft over the breeze. Bokuto hums in agreement. The moon is full and heavy in the sky, illuminating everything. When he tilts his head to look at Kuroo, his eyelashes cut long shadows, and his lips look soft and warm. Bokuto looks away hastily.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Kuroo whispers.

Bokuto swallows, a few stray tears rising in his eyes. He blinks them away. “I didn’t know her very well.”

“Then why were you so upset?”

Bokuto’s chest tightens. “I think she looked up to me. I think she did what she did because she thought it would make me like her.” His breath catches in his throat. “I wish she knew,” he says simply. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Kuroo nodding slowly. He doesn’t question him more than that.

“Thanks, Kuroo.”

“Anytime,” he answers lightly.

Bokuto rolls over on his side, leaning up on his elbow. “No, I’m serious. I –“ Bokuto shakes his head, tripping over the words. “I can’t thank you enough. For everything, not just tonight.”

“It’s no problem,” Kuroo insists, but his eyes are wide as he stares up at Bokuto.

Bokuto leans down, tears pricking hotly at his eyes again, to press his forehead to Kuroo’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he whispers tightly, voice thick.

“It’s fine, Bo,” Kuroo responds, wrapping an arm tentatively around Bokuto’s back, like he’s not sure it belongs there. Bokuto eases into the contact, pressing himself into Kuroo’s side, his head cradled against Kuroo’s arm. He smells of the forest and iron.

*

“It’s your birthday soon, right?”

Bokuto nearly trips. Kuroo, as usual, has beaten them to their little clearing. He’s leaned against a tree at the edge, hands shoved into his pockets, shapely arms bare despite the autumn chill.

“It was last week,” Bokuto manages past his shock.

Kuroo’s eyes widen, and he shifts uncomfortably. “Ah – shit.” He rubs the back of his neck and looks away. “I wanted to give you something.” Nor for the first time, Bokuto would bet every dollar he owns that Kuroo is blushing.

“How do you know when my birthday is?”

“You mentioned it once,” Kuroo says, off-handedly.

“I don’t remember,” Bokuto protests, ignoring the little thrill in his chest.

“Well you did or I wouldn’t know it.” Kuroo looks…uncomfortable. That’s the only word for it. Bokuto feels himself grin.

“You could have swiped it from my mind,” Bokuto taunts, as Kuroo shifts his weight, ill-at-ease. “With your creepy vampire powers.”

“I _could not_ ,” Kuroo protests. He’s _fun_ when he’s riled up. “We’ve established this.”

Bokuto milks his temporary upper hand for all it’s worth. “You could still be lying though.” Bokuto leans against another tree, mimicking his posture. “For your nefarious vampire agenda.”

“I do not _have –“_ Kuroo cuts himself off, huffing through his nose. Bokuto cackles. “I guess you don’t want your birthday present, then.” Kuroo turns on his heel and stalks away.

“Awwww, Kurooooo!” Bokuto whines, loping after him. Kuroo ignores him without a backward glance. Bokuto can’t stop laughing. “Wait up! I didn’t mean it!”

“No, you said it yourself,” Kuroo says over his shoulder, “I’m a creepy, nefarious vampire.” Kuroo throws a suspicious glance at him. “Who taught you the word nefarious?”

“I know how to read,” Bokuto says, catching up and throwing an arm around Kuroo’s shoulder.

“I’m shocked.” Kuroo pulls away from his embrace, a challenge in his eyes, daring Bokuto to try again.

Bokuto grins back and lunges for him, catching him at the elbow briefly before Kuroo spins away. His hands are still in his pockets, and he throws his head back and laughs. Bokuto’s heart quickens and he licks his lips. He pounces again, this time hopping onto Kuroo’s back. Kuroo stumbles, just for a moment, before lashing his arms around Bokuto’s thighs. Bokuto laughs, and he thinks he feels Kuroo’s chest shake between his legs.

He expects Kuroo to drop him, but he doesn’t. He just takes a second to hitch Bokuto into a better position – Bokuto almost loses his balance and has to sling his arms around Kuroo’s neck – and keeps walking.

Bokuto laughs nervously. (If he’s honest with himself it’s more like a giggle.) “You can put me down.”

Kuroo shrugs. “It’s easier this way.”

“Easier?” Bokuto repeats dumbly. Kuroo isn’t faltering at all, carrying Bokuto like he doesn’t weigh a thing. (He immediately begs his dick to _stay put_.)

“Do you want your birthday present or not?” Kuroo asks slyly, tipping his head back to look at Bokuto.

And just like that, any advantage he had on Kuroo is gone. He swallows and nods. Kuroo smirks and turns his eyes back to the ground to avoid stray tree roots. There’s not path that Bokuto can see.

“Where are we going?” Bokuto asks, tentatively settling his head on Kuroo’s shoulder.

“It’s a surprise,” is all Kuroo will say, even when Bokuto begs and whines and kicks his feet. He gives up with Kuroo threatens to drop him and leave him lost in the woods.

Silences between them are always filled with _tension_ or _anticipation_ or Bokuto’s wild and treacherous imagination. But this is…easy. Simple. Calm, not empty. Like this, in the dead of night in the middle of the forest, Kuroo’s strong arms supporting his weight, it’s easy for Bokuto to let his guard down. Kuroo seems to have done the same. Occasionally he’ll point out some nearly inscrutable landmark – a particularly tall or gnarled tree, the remnants of some ancient footpath, a slight change in elevation. Bokuto nods along to his explanations until Kuroo falls silent again. He’s nearly lulled to sleep with Kuroo’s steady footsteps and the warm scent of him.

Time is immaterial. It’s more interesting to ponder the softness of Kuroo’s hair against his cheek, the way his slim waist feels between Bokuto’s legs, the grip of his fingers under his thighs.

“You’re really strong,” he murmurs before he realizes what he’s said. He instantly flushes, knowing that Kuroo can feel his face get hot against his neck.

Kuroo laughs quietly, indulgently. “Vampires muscles don’t get fatigued the same way humans do. I think it has something to do with the lack of oxygen.” Kuroo keeps talking, but it’s nonsense to Bokuto. All the same, he likes hearing Kuroo’s voice. Bokuto can feel Kuroo’s chest and neck thrum and vibrate as he talks. Bokuto knows that whatever he’s saying is probably important, but it’s so much more fun to rest his forehead on Kuroo’s shoulder and hum along so Kuroo will keep talking.

He must actually fall asleep though, because he doesn’t remember anything after than until Kuroo jostles him.

“You awake, sleepy-head?” Kuroo teases, giving a little shimmy.

Bokuto starts, legs clenching as his body realizes that he’s still hanging off Kuroo’s back. “Are we here already?” he mumbles sleepily, rubbing at his eyes.

Kuroo chuckles. “Yeah. I gotta put you down now.”

Bokuto unlocks his arms and legs. His front immediately feels cold. “Where’s here?” They’re in the thick of the forest. Tall trees surround him; the tallest trees he’s ever seen, so tall he can’t even begin to see the tops of them even when he cranes his neck up. The canopy is thick, obscuring them in darkness. Kuroo’s eyes pick up what little light there is, the rich brown of his iris’ glowing.

“Trust me?” Kuroo asks, turning around and offering Bokuto his hand with a wry smile.

Bokuto grins back, heart flipping. “You know it.” He puts his hand in Kuroo’s, squeezing gently.

Kuroo turns and peers between the trees at something Bokuto can’t see. His grip is cool and firm, each fingertip pressing lightly into Bokuto’s knuckles. “We’ll need to be fast and quiet,” he says over his shoulder.

“Is it dangerous?” Bokuto asks nervously, not sure which answer he’d rather get.

Kuroo snorts. “No. I’d just rather not get caught.” Kuroo tugs their hands, so Bokuto is pressed against his back. “Ready?”

Bokuto is nearly breathless with anticipation. He nods, once, heart in his throat.

“Let’s go.”

Kuroo tugs him through the trees. Bokuto feels his heart completely stop.

With no warning whatsoever, they’re in a massive clearing. All the trees abruptly fall away, revealing a massive, high expanse of stone wall. It stretches up almost as far as the ancient trees do, touching the stars. The moonlight illuminates the clearing, and the stone of the walls seems to pick up the light and absorb it somehow so it _glows_. Bokuto has less than a second to take all this in, because Kuroo is dragging him, running parallel to the wall.

He wishes he could ask, or stop, or _look because what the fuck_ but Kuroo had said they needed to be quiet. He strains his eyes and cranes his head around, trying to get the best look possible at everything – at what _must_ be a vampire city – as it slips from his view. Kuroo is _fast_. Bokuto isn’t quite having trouble keeping up with him, not yet, but it’s a near thing. Kuroo’s footfalls are nearly silent. Bokuto is sure that if he wasn’t looking he wouldn’t know Kuroo is there at all.

It’s impossible to tell how tall the wall is. Eventually Bokuto gets the feeling that it’s actually curved, that they’re running along one part of a huge circle. The stone looks normal except for the faint glow, and it’s impossibly smooth. Rather than individual stones mortared together, it almost looks like one solid rock. There also seems to be almost no sign of decay. His own city walls seem to need constant repairs, and there’s been times he’s been drafted to fix the walls despite his status and other duties. There just never seem to be enough resources to keep the walls in better condition, and the government doesn’t seem to want to devote resources to researching better ways to secure their perimeter when they could be developing better weapons or expanding industry.

Bokuto’s lungs have started to burn, but it feels good. He hasn’t been able to let loose like this in a while, not even at the gym. His hair is getting blown back by the wind, out of place, and the cool night air wicks away the sweat at his temples and under his arms. He’s just starting to pant and gasp for air when Kuroo slows to a jog, pulling Bokuto beside him. Bokuto tries not to breathe too loudly, but it’s probably a lost cause.

Kuroo pulls him close and presses his lips to Bokuto’s ear. “Okay,” he whispers, barely any voice to it at all. Even this close, it’s hard to make out exactly what he’s saying. “Close your eyes.” Bokuto pulls back in shock, but Kuroo just drags him close again, squeezing their still-joined hands. “It’s for your present.” Bokuto shivers, but nods and closes his eyes.

Kuroo leads him a little farther, without speaking. Bokuto is suddenly aware of how quiet it is, his own footsteps and heartbeat the only sounds he can hear. This close to his own city he can usually make out some kind of noise no matter what time it is, but not here. Kuroo stops a little abruptly; Bokuto almost runs into him.

“Sorry,” he whispers. His throat has gone dry. Kuroo just laughs and drops his hand. Bokuto feels a rush of tingling warmth in the places where Kuroo used to be.

He hears Kuroo rustling a little, and his heartbeat picks up in anticipation. The urge to open his eyes is so strong that his whole face itches. He puts his hands over his eyes to rid himself of the temptation. He hears something in front of him, almost like the swing of a door. But that can’t be right, not in the giant stone wall. He twitches with curiosity.

He feels Kuroo circle behind him, taking his elbows and pushing him forward gently. He almost resists – there should be a wall in front of him – but when he steps forward there’s nothing. In fact, it feels like he’s stepping inside. The grass beneath his feet abruptly turns to something smooth – wood? Stone? Packed earth? It’s hard to tell. Kuroo pushes him forward until –

“Wait – there’s a step up. Just – there,” Kuroo guides as Bokuto tentatively steps up. “There’s a set of stairs in front of you. Go ahead.” Kuroo shifts so that he’s beside him, pressing a firm hand against the small of his back.

Bokuto shifts uncomfortably. “Can I look?” His feet feel heavy and treacherous.

“Nope.”

“You better not let me fall.”

“I won’t,” Kuroo promises. Bokuto flushes, hoping that it doesn’t spread to the back of his neck where Kuroo can see.

There are…a lot of stairs. Only his pride stops him from asking for a break. He has no way of judging how high up he is either. He thinks the stairwell might be enclosed, but it isn’t hot or still. It’s almost the same temperature as outside, but he can tell there’s something over his head. When he blinks his eyes open behind his cupped hands, he knows it’s not dark though. Fucking weird.

Bokuto’s pride is just about to give out when Kuroo says, “Okay, stop here. Wait a second.” He drops his hand from Bokuto’s back and shuffles in front of him. Bokuto is frozen in something like fear, but not quite. He hears another door opening, this time after a deadbolt gets turned. Kuroo wraps his hand around one of Bokuto’s wrists, tugging gently. Bokuto lets him take it, keeping his eyes shut tight.

“I think it’ll be worth it,” Kuroo murmurs, pulling him forward. He first notices the smell – cacophonous but sweet and incredible. His mouth practically waters. The air suddenly gets much warmer – not unpleasant, but fresh and alive. Bokuto assumes he’s stepping into a room. It’s less quiet in here, or rather a different type of quiet. There’s something that’s _humming_ about this place. Bokuto is so curious he’s certain that he’s going to melt.

“Can I open?” Bokuto begs.

“Just a second.” Bokuto can hear the smile in his voice. Kuroo tugs him forward, with long confident steps. Bokuto almost trips, but the floor is smooth beneath his feet.

Finally, Kuroo stops, dropping his hand. “Okay, go ahead,” Kuroo whispers.

He’s in the middle of a jungle. That’s how it feels when he first opens his eyes. There are plants surrounding him, vines and flowers and little trees in pots and on tables everywhere. That explains the warmth and the smell and the _buzz_. He’s in a strange kind of greenhouse where only the ceiling is glass and only a few of the plants are actually green. Moonlight floods the room, lighting the flora flatteringly. There are small plants and big ones, some with flowers and some with strange spiny growths, others that creep up and down the stone walls. The room is enormous, circular, and every single inch is filled with the vegetation. It’s nothing like Bokuto has ever seen, either in the forest or his own city or in his wildest dreams.

He can’t help himself – he runs towards the nearest table, covered in pots and jars full of strange, colorful flowers. He bends down to look at a bright fuchsia one that grows in pairs, with lilac stems and faintly green leaves. The petals are wrapped together tightly, almost like a rose. It’s incredible, but he’s distracted from it by the one beside it that shoots up from its pot and reaches for the ceiling. It’s a deep brown, almost like tree bark but richer, plain looking but still _strange_. Beside it in a little glass bowl is a tree in miniature, tiny branches and tiny leaves and tiny, tiny roots spider-webbing through its dirt when Bokuto crouches down to see them. He turns to Kuroo, not bothering to hide the wonder in his expression.

Kuroo is watching him, a tiny smile on his face. “Do you like it?”

“Kuroo it’s _incredible,”_ he gushes. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. What is this place?”

Kuroo’s smiles widens. He straightens his shoulders and casts his eyes around. “It’s – it’s kind of my laboratory.” He looks undeniably proud. (But for once, not smug.)

“ _Yours?”_ Bokuto runs up to Kuroo, unable to contain himself. He wants to be absolutely everywhere at once. “You did all this?”

“Not by myself,” Kuroo admits, shyly avoiding Bokuto’s eyes. It’s adorable. “But it’s been my pet project for most of my life.”

Bokuto nods, inspecting another flower (bright purple with royal blue leaves cradling it). “Cool.” And then he realizes – “So you’ve been doing this for over two hundred years?” He practically shouts, voice disturbing the air. He looks around again, in renewed interest and shock.

Kuroo nods. “It’s not everything I’ve ever done. This is just where I keep what’s current.”

“Current?” Bokuto echoes, looking around for something else to catch his eye. There are lots and lots of tables like the one he was just inspecting.

“These are all new, or ones I’m tweaking.”

“What do you mean? They’re plants.” Bokuto frowns. Surely he doesn’t mean…

“Well I made them,” Kuroo laughs rubbing the back of his neck. “With uh – with science, I guess.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops _again._ “How?” He grabs at Kuroo’s hands, just for something to do. “You _made_ them?”

Kuroo laughs, ducking his head. He looks almost embarrassed at Bokuto’s enthusiasm, but Bokuto can’t help himself. “It’s a little complicated to explain if you don’t know the basics, but you can actually manipulate plants pretty easily. Like, get them to grow how you want. I was interested in it when I was alive and then suddenly I had all this time on my hands…” Kuroo shrugs. “And flower etiquette is still really in. It’s lucrative, actually.”

“Flower etiquette?” Every time Kuroo opens his mouth, Bokuto has sixty seven more questions. It’s impossible to keep up with them all.

“I guess that’s out of style for humans,” Kuroo laughs. “Typical.” Kuroo tugs on their hands, leading them down a path created by gaps in the tables. Bokuto now notices that there are a few electric-powered lamps, but most of the light comes from the massive glass ceiling letting in the moon. The moon somehow looks bigger, closer. There’s no way they climbed _that_ many stairs. Bokuto is about to ask about that, too, when Kuroo stops in front of a long table, far away from the door they came it.

It’s the most organized, by far. Each flower has its own neatly labeled pot, arranged into rows and columns. There are a variety of blooms, but they look more like traditional flowers – a stem and a few leaves and some kind of bloom on top. What makes them special is that each is singularly perfect. There isn’t a blemish or flaw to be found on a single one. Bokuto crouches down to get a better look, reaching out to stroke a petal.

Kuroo slaps his hand away. “Not that one,” he says quickly.

Bokuto tilts his head and frowns. The blue blossom looks perfectly harmless. “Why?”

Kuroo crouches down too. “See the yellow veins?” Kuroo points to one of the petals. The blue is streaked through with faint golden capillaries.

“So?”

“It’s still sticky. Craziest shit I’ve ever seen.” Kuroo turns to another table and grabs a pencil from a notepad. He holds it out to the petal, eraser end first. “Watch,” he says, poking the flower with it. It immediately sticks on, anchored only at the eraser. The pencil hangs horizontally.

Bokuto laughs. “Why does it do that?” He pokes the pencil, but it’s stuck fast, even when he pushes down on it.

Kuroo shrugs. “No idea,” he says, standing and looking over the rest of the flowers on the table.

“What’s the point of it?” Bokuto asks, standing too.

“This one is given to express gratitude.” Kuroo points at the pots little tag. It reads _For Your Happiness._ “They used to symbolize good luck, so giving them to someone who helped you out means you want them to be rewarded. Paired with…” Kuroo trails off and runs his eyes over the table. He plucks up another pot with a different type of flower, holding it up so Bokuto can see it better; it’s one white stalk with hundreds of light pink bell shaped flowers, all clamoring for space. “This one, it means good luck with a period of transition. They’re common after mutual break ups.” Kuroo places the flower back in its spot, arranging it carefully.

“Vampires have break ups?” Bokuto asks, baffled.

Kuroo shrugs. “Sure. Immortality doesn’t guarantee compatibility.” Kuroo laughs at Bokuto’s bewildered expression.

“Vampires _date?_ ”

Kuroo laughs again, snorting through his nose. “Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t we?”

Bokuto folds his arms defensively. “It just seems so…normal,” he deflates.

Kuroo arches an eyebrow at him. “The rules are a little different but the basic premise is the same. Boy meets girl – or girl meets girl or boy meets boy or whoever meets whoever – and,” Kuroo cuts himself off sharply. Bokuto pretends like he _didn’t_ just make that sound. “What?” Kuroo asks suspiciously.

“Nothing,” Bokuto says, too quickly. Kuroo leans towards him, lecherously. Bokuto has never won this game. “Nothing!” he insists, leaning away from Kuroo’s heavy gaze. “I just –“ Bokuto swallows, feeling his cheeks heat up. “You said boy meets boy.” Kuroo just stares at him, uncomprehending. “Is that – is that normal? For vampires?” Bokuto stutters.

Kuroo huffs. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”

Bokuto looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the tag of the flower nearest him (a dense cluster of green buds bursting up from the soil) to avoid Kuroo’s eyes. “It isn’t for humans,” he mutters, shame still coloring his cheeks.

He can feel Kuroo’s astonishment coming off him in waves. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not okay for – for guys and guys and girls and girls. Or whoever and whoever. For humans.”

“Since when?” Kuroo says, quiet and controlled.

“Since always?” Bokuto glances at Kuroo. His face is carefully blank – not neutral, but purposefully devoid of emotion. Bokuto doesn’t like it.

“You can’t – date who you want? Humans have to – “ Kuroo cuts himself off. “You’re fucking with me,” he accuses. Bokuto doesn’t know how to respond to that, but Kuroo must read that he’s serious in his expression. “That’s…that’s awful,” he says eventually, through gritted teeth.

“What do you mean?”

Kuroo sighs heavily, leaning against the table. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay, Bokuto,” Kuroo says quietly.

Bokuto frowns and tries to catch Kuroo’s gaze, but he’s resolutely studying his flowers. “Gay?” he repeats. “What does that mean?”

Kuroo starts and nearly shoves one of the pots off the table. He takes another deep breath as he rearranges what he disturbed. “It just means being attracted to someone who’s the same gender as you.”

Bokuto feels a shudder rip through his core. _Gay_. The word and concept sounds foreign, but somehow comforting. His brain almost rejects it, but something inside him clings to it. _There’s nothing wrong with being gay,_ he hears in Kuroo’s voice again.

“There’s nothing wrong with it?” Bokuto repeats quietly, timidly. 

“ _No_ ,” Kuroo says firmly, gripping his arm. “Not at all. Don’t let anyone tell you different,” he says, finally meeting Bokuto’s eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with liking whoever you want.” The look in his eyes is passionate and sweet, so sad and full of tenderness that Bokuto can’t look at it for long, for fear he’ll do something else stupid.

“Is there a flower for that?” Bokuto asks lightly, despite the way his heart is racing. “For being – gay?”

Kuroo snorts, dropping his arm. (Bokuto doesn’t miss the contact – no he absolutely does not.) “Not exactly,” he says, looking over the flowers carefully. “But this one,” he points to a delicate yellow one on the back row, “is often used to turn someone down because you don’t swing that way.” Bokuto bends over the table carefully to get a closer look. The bloom has a luxurious sprawl to it, and deepens to a rich orange near the center, dotted with deep purple spots.

“That’s oddly specific,” Bokuto points out, leaning back.

Kuroo shakes his head. “Most of the meanings aren’t really strictly codified. They’re more subtle. When used as a courting language, there has to be room for flirtation.” Kuroo points out a red blossom near Bokuto’s hand. “That’s usually sent to thank someone for their work. If it’s someone you’re courting though,” Kuroo delicately traces along the vibrant edge of one slender, pointed leaf, “it could be a compliment to their appearance or,” Kuroo pauses and smirks, sly, “an expression of gratitude at your lovers’ _physical prowess_.” Kuroo waggles his eyebrows and leers suggestively at Bokuto.

Bokuto laughs loudly, shoving him away. “ _Gross_.”

Kuroo laughs too. “Not all of them need a dictionary to decode though. There has to be some way to make your intentions clear.” Kuroo reaches for a flower on the edge of the table that’s escaped Bokuto’s notice until now. It’s pure black, stem, leaves and all. “This one, for example,” Kuroo murmurs, holding the flower close so Bokuto can inhale its heady aroma. It smells like dark chocolate and oranges. “This one is used exclusively for sexual advances. It means, in no uncertain terms, that the giver would like to ravish you, at your earliest convenience.”

Kuroo holds the pot up to Bokuto’s eyes so he can get a better look. The petals look like velvet, beckoning him to touch. Bokuto lifts his hand tentatively – Kuroo nods his assent. The petals seem to surge into his touch, eager for it. The feel is soft like skin but it doesn’t give the same way, and it’s somehow warm to the touch.

Bokuto glances into Kuroo’s eyes. Kuroo is watching him, hungrily, eyes dark and hooded. Bokuto feels his gut clench.

He backs away, trying not to trip on anything. “It’s really nice,” he says quickly, looking around for something else to talk about. His stomach is still _swoop_ ing, obsessed with the way Kuroo had been looking at him. Bokuto hearts Kuroo set the flower back down on the table. His eyes are still boring into Bokuto’s back. “What else?” he asks, though he isn’t looking at Kuroo.

“This one symbolizes purity,” Kuroo says softly. When Bokuto turns to look, he’s holding a delicate yellow one, the petals drooping. It’s oddly adorable.

“Like virginity?” Bokuto blurts out. Mistake.

Kuroo shrugs, setting the pot down. “I suppose it could.” Bokuto thinks he’s in the clear, but then he feels Kuroo’s gaze sharpen. “Why?”

Bokuto runs his fingers along the edge of a table, pretending to inspect a new flower. “I might need it someday.”

“Why?” Kuroo presses, suddenly at Bokuto’s back.

Bokuto stifles a shudder. “Because –“ he swallows thickly. “Because I am one.”

“Oh,” Kuroo breathes, soft and sweet in Bokuto’s ear. “So that time in the woods…” Kuroo trails off, sidestepping in front of Bokuto and pinning him with those gorgeous eyes. “The night we met.”

“First time someone else saw my dick, yeah,” he blurts out, meeting Kuroo’s gaze as steadily as he can. “Bet you wouldn’t have been so eager to get in my pants if you’d known I was a big ol virgin, huh,” he babbles. “Not exactly how I pictured it, and it happened before my first kiss, but I’m not complaining. At least it was unique. I’ll never be able to tell that story at the family dinner table, which is a damn shame because honestly –“

“You’ve never been kissed?” Kuroo interrupts, tilting his head to the side. He’s abruptly changed from teasing to sincere. Bokuto just shakes his head. He licks his lips and tries not to look at Kuroo’s. (It’s a lost cause, he’s thought about them a thousand times; they look so _soft._ ) Kuroo steps in a little closer.

“Would you like to be?” Kuroo breathes, putting his hand ever so gently on Bokuto’s arm.

“What?” Bokuto says dumbly, distracted.

“Would you like to be kissed?” Kuroo murmurs, trailing his fingertips up and down Bokuto’s skin, lightly enough to make him shiver.

Bokuto shrugs, the movement twitchier than he would have liked. “It’s no big deal.”

“It’s your birthday,” Kuroo purrs, slipping his other arm around Bokuto’s waist.

“My birthday was a week ago,” he squeaks.

“To make it up to you then.” Kuroo slides the hand on his arm up and down soothingly. “For basically taking your virginity.”

“I liked it, though,” Bokuto admits hastily. Kuroo is so closer now, and his eyes are nothing but honest and gentle.

“Then because I want to,” he breathes, slipping one hand around the back of Bokuto’s neck. Steadying, calming, comforting. Bokuto’s heart throbs. “Trust me?” Bokuto nods slowly. “Close your eyes,” Kuroo commands softly. Bokuto does.

Kuroo is gentle, at first. A sweet, singular, dry press of lips. Bokuto feels his heart flutter, and he leans into it. Kuroo obliges him, tilting Bokuto’s head firmly. Bokuto’s hands are shaking, so he reaches up to grab Kuroo’s shoulders. Kuroo hums happily, and pulls Bokuto closer. They’re pressed together everywhere.

 _I’m kissing him I’m kissing him I’m kissing him,_ Bokuto thinks wildly.

At the first lick of Kuroo’s tongue, Bokuto whimpers. At the first scrape of teeth, he moans. Kuroo clutches him tighter, threading his fingers through Bokuto’s hair and strengthening the hold of his arm around Bokuto’s waist to gather him closer. Bokuto tentatively winds his arms around Kuroo’s neck, and Kuroo growls his approval, kissing him a little bit faster and rougher. Bokuto can hardly keep up but he does his best.

Bokuto gives Kuroo’s shapely top lip a little bite of his own, and swoons when Kuroo responds with a moan. Feeling bold, heart pounding wildly, Bokuto threads his fingers through Kuroo’s wild hair. Kuroo likes that, too – he pulls Bokuto so close that his feet almost lift off the ground. Bokuto laughs breathlessly; he can’t help it. It’s all so _good_.

He’s starting to need to gasp for air, but Kuroo doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. His tongue is just as good at kissing as it is at talking. Bokuto whines and whimpers for him, unable to help the pathetic little sounds falling out of him. Kuroo drinks them in, occasionally responding with his own, groaning and thrusting into him when Bokuto pulls on his hair. Bokuto is _dizzy._

When Kuroo finally breaks away, Bokuto is panting, and he’s about three seconds away from having a _problem_ in his downstairs. Kuroo doesn’t look any better. His eyes are wild, and his arm is still holding Bokuto tightly, protectively. For the first time in his life, Bokuto feels small. It makes him shiver, especially paired with the way Kuroo is staring at him.

“Bokuto,” he breathes, resting his forehead against Bokuto’s. “Bo, I-“

A gentle chime sounds above their heads.

Bokuto is going to ignore it, but Kuroo’s eyes go wide. “ _Shit,_ ” he grits out, letting his head thump against Bokuto’s shoulder. “Bo we have to go.”

Bokuto gets whiplash. “What?” he pants. “Why?” His lips are still tingling.

“It’s almost sunrise – I have to get you back.”

“Shit,” Bokuto echoes. He breathes deep, trying to clear his head. “Oh – okay.” Kuroo’s lips are wet and shiny and distracting.

Kuroo looks at him – longingly, is the word, that Bokuto trips over even in his own mind. Kuroo looks at him longingly. Bokuto feels his stomach clench.

“Let’s go,” Kuroo murmurs, untangling himself from Bokuto and dragging them towards the door.

Kuroo doesn’t make him close his eyes this time. Once they leave the green house, there’s just the stairwell that brought them up. It is enclosed, like Bokuto thought, but one wall of it is made of frosty, warped glass. Bright moonlight trickles in, lighting their way without the need for artificial light. The effect is very pretty, but totally obscures even a glimpse of the vampire city. Bokuto can make out vague shapes, but nothing else. He doesn’t want to stop and ask though – the pace Kuroo is pushing has him nearly tripping over his own feet. The stairwell is a straight shot down with no landings, with a slight curve; it must follow the outside wall. Bokuto barely even has time to wonder why these stairs are enclosed. Kuroo is in front, and he only spares a glance behind to tell Bokuto to watch out for creaky or loose steps. Bokuto’s head is still spinning, remembering the feeling of Kuroo’s cool, clever lips and strong hands.

When they reach the bottom, the light has dimmed considerably. There’s a small overhang above a door – it must be carved into the thick outer wall. Bokuto takes a moment to catch his breath.

“It’s a straight shot for a mile and a half, then you’ll need to hang either a right or a left. Right for the gate, left for where we usually meet up,” Kuroo informs him dispassionately. His hair is still mussed in the back and his eyes are restless. That’s the only indication that he’s as affected as Bokuto is. It makes Bokuto feel awful, but he tries to hide it. “I’d go with you if I could, but.” He trails off with a shrug. 

Kuroo pushes open the door. It’s nearly invisible, even right next to it. It swings open silently, hinges hidden within the stone. Bokuto wishes he had time to marvel at it. Bokuto steps through and turns back to Kuroo, grabbing his hand that’s resting on the door frame.

“Thanks,” he says fervently. “For everything. It was _awesome_.”

Kuroo smiles, softly, genuinely. “Happy birthday, Bokuto.”

*

The next week with Kuroo is…strained.

The night after, Kuroo doesn’t show up at all. Bokuto waits for an hour before dragging his sore ass home, feeling pathetic and cold.

But Kuroo is there the night after that. He doesn’t bring up the kiss, so Bokuto doesn’t either. Maybe that’s normal for vampires, he reasons, to make out in a magical moonlit garden until your fingers are shaking and your eyes are glazed over, drunk on kissing. Maybe that’s something Kuroo does every day.

The thought makes Bokuto’s heart sink all the way to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I really agonized over all of this. Let me know if any other content warnings need to be added.  
> There are probably some contradictions here and there, but forgive me. It's a vampire fanfiction.  
> Let me know what you think! Thanks as always to anyone who leaves comments. They make the story so much fun to write! Next update should be coming much sooner than this one.  
> Talk to ya soon ;)


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there. Most of you probably saw this coming. I hope it's fun anyway.  
> Please Enjoy!

“ _God_ you smell good."

Bokuto stiffens. “What?” he says calmly.

“No – fuck you, not like that,” Kuroo grouses. They’re lying next to each other, looking at the stars, while Kuroo explains more about his flowers. In addition to Not Talking About The Kiss, Kuroo has been simultaneously skittish and clingy. One second he’s keeping his distance, eyes shifting, and the next he’s pressed into Bokuto’s side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Tonight, he looks exhausted, bedraggled, run dry. Bokuto wants to ask if he’s oaky, but he’s worried he’ll say the wrong thing.

Bokuto rolls onto his side to get a better look at Kuroo. “Like what, then? Like…like my deodorant?”

Kuroo flushes. “Not exactly. Just like. Your uh. Your blood.” His voice cracks.

“You said not like that!” Bokuto’s heartbeat pounds in his ears.

“I mean not like I’m gonna eat you! Shit.” Kuroo at least has the decency to look embarrassed. He runs his hands through his hair, drags over his face. “I’m a vampire, what do you expect?”

“Exactly! You’re a vampire! You can’t just say ‘you smell good’ and not expect me to expect that!” He wills his heart rate back down.

“Don’t you trust me at all?” Kuroo says petulantly, sitting up.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bokuto says flippantly, flapping his hands and following. “What did you mean, then?” he presses, leaning in to get a better look at Kuroo’s face.

“Nothing, really.” Kuroo picks at his fingernails, avoiding eye contact. Kuroo _never_ avoids eye contact.

“You’ve never told me I smelled good before,” Bokuto points out, scooting closer.   

Kuroo tries to look casual. (Which is _bizarre_ because Bokuto is certain he’d look casual in a three piece suit and a monocle without trying at all.)  “I haven’t?” he asks, voice tight and airy, fidgeting with the hem of his pants. “I must have at some point.”

“Nope. I would have remembered,” Bokuto insists. Why is Kuroo _moving_ so much tonight? “Is it always true?”

Kuroo shrugs jerkily. “Humans in general smell good. Like, you know. Steak or whatever smells good on some level no matter what, right?” he reasons, eyes shifting restless.

Bokuto hums, leaning back against his tree and appraising Kuroo. Kuroo is uncomfortable. Bokuto doesn’t like it. His instincts are telling him to dig and push. “I guess,” he says. He gets the feeling that Kuroo is afraid to look at him. 

“That’s all.” Kuroo shrugs, unconvincingly. It does not make him look more relaxed, like he’s probably hoping. 

“You can tell me what’s bothering you, you know.”

Kuroo’s sharp cat eyes focus on him. “What?”

“You can tell me.” Bokuto leans in close so he can read Kuroo’s expression better. “I can tell you’re upset about something.”

“I’m not upset,” Kuroo blurts, looking more upset by the second.

“Kuroo,” he admonishes. “Aren’t we…you know. We’re friends.” Bokuto bites his lip, ignoring all the other things they might be (are). Kuroo gulps, eyes searching his face. Bokuto holds his gaze steadily.

“Yes, we’re friends,” Kuroo breathes.

“And I just told you I trust you. Don’t you trust me?”

Kuroo squirms and drops his eyes to where his hands are writhing in his lap. “Bo, it’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” Bokuto says decisively. He crawls forward and dumps himself onto Kuroo’s lap, straddling him and pinning his arms to his sides with his legs. “We’re friends, we trust each other, and you’ve seen my dick. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _Bokuto,”_ Kuroo starts, struggling, but Bokuto is having none of it.

“Nope. You’ve been acting weird since we kissed. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _Please_ get off me,” Kuroo begs, and the more desperate he is the _weirder_ this all gets.

“I will if you tell me what’s wrong,” Bokuto insists, bearing down harder.

“Bokuto – you don’t understand. You won’t like it.” Kuroo is starting to panic, struggling harder. Why is he being so _stubborn?_

“Kuroo.” Bokuto takes his face into his hands. He looks into Kuroo’s pretty, pretty eyes. “Trust me.”

Kuroo gazes up at him. Bokuto can pin-point the moment he gives up in his eyes. He slumps, shoulders turning in. His face slides out of Bokuto’s hands.

“It’s embarrassing,” Kuroo mutters.

“You’ve literally seen me cum.”

Kuroo huffs out a laugh. It shakes Bokuto a little. “I told you you wouldn’t like it.” Bokuto folds his arms and waits. Kuroo buries his face in his hands.

“I’m hungry,” he says, voice burning.

Bokuto stills, down to his bones. _Fuck_. “Like. Blood-hungry?”

Kuroo cringes, shoulders curling in on himself. “That’s basically the only kind of hungry I get.”

Bokuto suddenly feels like a gigantic idiot for getting into his lap, and then an ever bigger colossal idiot for not being able to make himself _move_. “Well. That’s normal, right?”

“No, I told you, you don’t understand.” Kuroo uncovers his eyes, and the gold has almost completely taken over the dark brown. “I’m _really_ hungry.”

Bokuto frowns. “Why haven’t you been eating?”

Kuroo averts his eyes again. “It doesn’t feel right anymore. I can’t stop thinking about what you would say.”

Bokuto’s heart pulses loudly in his ears, and now he knows that Kuroo can hear it, can feel it, can practically _see_ it. He can’t bring himself to move. “You eat animals.”

“I know. But I – it still doesn’t really feel right. I just – I haven’t been hunting. I’ve been…distracted, I guess.” Kuroo looks ashamed and small. Bokuto hates it.

Bokuto shakes his head emphatically. “That’s not good. What happens when you don’t eat?”

Kuroo lets his head fall back against the tree. His hands are balled into tight fists. “Most of the myths humans have about vampires being evil monsters are from vampires who are starved.”

Bokuto’s brows pull together. “Okay…” His mind is in over-drive, thinking of what to do. “Why are you embarrassed?”

Kuroo hangs his head and doesn’t speak for a long, tense moment. He takes a few shuddering breaths. Hysterically, Bokuto thinks he must be crying.

“I don’t like being controlled by it,” he murmurs.

“I don’t understand,” Bokuto says immediately.

Kuroo huffs. “Of course you don’t. You can’t possibly.”

“No – I don’t mean – I don’t mean I don’t get it. I mean you’re _not_ controlled by it.” Kuroo’s head snaps up to look at him, jaw hanging open stupidly. “You’re not. You’ve never threatened me, and even now, when you’re close to starving…” Bokuto looks down, to where they’re pressed together, to where Kuroo has stopped struggling to get away. “I’m perfectly safe.”

“Bo…” Kuroo’s eyes are so big and sad. _Fuck_ that.

“You don’t want to hurt me, right?”

Kuroo shakes his head emphatically. “No. Never.”

Bokuto smiles. “See? Easy.”

Kuroo shakes his head again – sharp. “No – _not_ easy! Bokuto you can’t be so – _naïve!”_

“I’m not naïve. I just trust you.”

Kuroo jerks again, freeing his hands. He settles them on Bokuto’s chest, pushing at him weakly. “You do realize that’s insane.” Bokuto shrugs, holding his gaze.

Kuroo, as usual, can’t be serious or melodramatic for too long. He laughs shakily, letting his forehead fall against Bokuto’s chest and wrapping his arms around him. Bokuto rests his chin on Kuroo’s spiky hair – it’s soft, like he remembers from every dream he’s had since they kissed. He smiles, hiding it in the unruly mane. Kuroo nuzzles closer to Bokuto’s neck and shivers.

“You really do smell amazing.”

Bokuto nods slowly. “Okay. What should we do about that?” He tries to will his heart to slow down, to force himself to _stop thinking,_ because his brain is about to make him do something fucking insane.

Kuroo seems to shy away. “I think I should be able to track down a few squirrels,” he mumbles.

“You’ll have to kill them,” Bokuto says casually.

Kuroo flinches. “Probably, yeah. I mean, they’re small.” Small means not much blood.

“It’s getting early. What if you can’t find enough in time?”

“I wouldn’t have to find a lot. Just one or two, or a bird, would get me through the day.” Kuroo is steadily relaxing – he seems to have accepted that Bokuto actually understands that he is, in fact, a vampire.

“What if your hunting powers are off because you’re so hungry?”

Kuroo shifts uncomfortably. “That shouldn’t happen.”

“But?” Bokuto prompts.

“But it could,” he admits, swallowing. “I mean I’m not as like. Sharp as I usually am right now. That’s the only reason I slipped and told you that you smell good.”

Bokuto hums to mask the way his heart is screaming. He lifts a hand to run his fingers gently through Kuroo’s hair.

“You could drink from me.”

Kuroo jerks violently, hands pushing Bokuto off, away. “No – what? No. _What?_ ”

Bokuto clamps down with his thighs. He’s not going anywhere. “You can eat like, three nasty squirrels, and potentially miss getting back home before sunrise and _die,_ depriving me of my only source of entertainment and companionship, _or_ you could stop being dramatic and have a snack.”

Kuroo is looking up at him, slack-jawed, but he isn’t struggling anymore. “You’re insane.”

“I’m not,” Bokuto insists. “I’m just very, very practical.”

“You are not.”

“Am too. So what’s it gonna be?” He arches his neck in what he thinks might be an attractive manner. “Aren’t you curious?”

Kuroo licks his lips and his pupils dilate a little. Bokuto flushes with success. “Curious?” he repeats dumbly.

“C’mon. You’ve gotta be curious to know what grade-A Hunter blood tastes like. No dumpster diving for my best friend.”

Kuroo huffs out a laugh, eyes wide, like he can’t control himself. “You’re fucking serious.”

“Of course I am. And I uh.” He trails off, ducking his head self-consciously. He closes his eyes as he says, “And it’s not like I haven’t thought about it.”

He can feel Kuroo perk up at that. “Really?” The vibrations of his chest are pressed right up against Bokuto’s heart. He shivers, a little.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” he says flippantly, looking down at Kuroo through his lashes. “Some humans like it, right?”

Kuroo runs his hands up and down Bokuto’s arms, thumbs brushing briefly over the pulse point of his wrists. Bokuto shivers again, and barely stops his hips from grinding down. Somehow he still forgets how fucking _hot_ Kuroo is.

“Some do,” Kuroo breathes, right over the skin of his neck.

“So I wanna see if I like it.” Bokuto’s voice is high and tight, and need – organic, human _want_ courses through him.

Kuroo exhales shakily. Bokuto is so, so glad he’s not the only one worked up. “Okay.” Bokuto can feel the shape of his mouth where it’s pressed against his hammering pulse.

“Go ahead,” Bokuto begs in a thin, reedy whisper.

“Not here,” Kuroo murmurs, lips brushing against Bokuto’s jugular. “Too obvious. Too hard to hide.” Kuroo’s hands slide up to Bokuto’s jacket and push at the sleeves. “Take this off,” he orders. Bokuto feels the edges of the thrall in his mind, but it’s just a whisper. Kuroo probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

He complies, sliding the leather off his skin, exposing himself to the moon and Kuroo’s hungry eyes. He shivers. Kuroo takes one arm in both of his, brushing his lips over the thin skin of his inner elbow. Bokuto gasps, oversensitive and strung out already.

Kuroo looks up at him, eyes burning. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He cups Kuroo’s face in his hand, tender and confident, to hide the way he’s shaking. “Go ahead.”

Kuroo swallows, and when he opens his mouth his fangs are bared. “Here – “ he exhales and Bokuto feels the thrall sweep over him. It’s not strong. It’s just enough to make him heavy and loose-limbed, make him more sensitive. One of Kuroo’s arms snakes around his waist, holding him up. It feels _really_ good. “It’ll help with the pain,” he mutters, sounding guilty already.

That’s a problem for Future Bokuto. Present Bokuto just wants Kuroo’s mouth on him. He just hums into Kuroo’s hair.

Kuroo searches his face, one last time. Bokuto smiles down at him. He’s so _pretty_.

“Don’t let me hurt you,” Kuroo whispers, and then sinks his teeth into Bokuto’s skin.

It hurts – but not enough. Not enough to drown out the rapture. It must be the thrall that makes it feel so good – it’s fucking irrational for it to just naturally feel good to have his blood drained. Either way, it does. It feels _so fucking good_. He’d almost forgotten how intense the drug is, how it heightens his senses and turns pain into mind-numbing pleasure. The feeling defies logic, and words, and thought. No wonder vampire’s victims had trouble describing what had happened to them during their attacks. How do you describe something that feels like every piece of your soul is being touched, caressed, adored? How do you explain the feeling of liquid fire pouring into your veins, lighting you up from within? How can you?

“Bo?” he dimly hears Kuroo ask him. “You okay?”

“Why does it _feel_ so good?” Bokuto rasps, head falling back.

“You taste amazing,” Kuroo says in response. Kuroo presses his lips to the bite mark he’s left on Bokuto’s arm, over and over again, like he can’t help himself. They’re both hard, grinding into each other helplessly. “Can I keep going?” he whispers tightly, between bloody kisses.

“ _Yes,”_ Bokuto hisses. “More – Kuroo, _more.”_ He pulls at Kuroo’s collar, falling backwards. He drags the solid weight of Kuroo on top of him, rutting up against him and moaning loudly. “My neck, please.”

Kuroo shudders, thrusting against him sharply, contradicting himself when he says, “Bokuto I _can’t.”_

“Please – please, I want it, I _need_ you _,”_ he begs mindlessly, throwing his legs around Kuroo’s waist.

“Bokuto-“

“ _Please.”_

He feels teeth rip into his neck.

He _screams_ in pleasure. He can feel the blood leaving his body but it’s being replaced with blinding hot pleasure, with perfection, with everything he’s been desperate for alone in his bed, everything he’s longed for when he wraps his hand around his aching cock and whispers the name of a vampire into his pillow as he climaxes. Kuroo smells so good, feels so strong and powerful over him. The length of his cock fees _so hard_ against his hip, even through all their clothes. He knows he sounds wrecked, but Kuroo does too, and it spurs him on.  Kuroo is groaning over him, making sweet helpless little noises into Bokuto’s neck, and he’s not sucking anymore, just licking at the blood that comes out.

“Bo – I have to stop, now,” Kuroo manages between gasping breaths.

“No, _please,”_ Bokuto sobs, clutching Kuroo tighter. He feels some of the fog lift – Kuroo taking the thrall away. Some of the pain breaks through, and he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t feel light headed, though, like he thought he might. “Did you have enough?” he finds the presence to ask, acutely aware of how their chests are pressed together from their gasping breaths.

“I think so.” Kuroo groans and presses his forehead to Bokuto’s neck, right over where he’d bitten. They both shiver and cry out at the feeling. “Bokuto – this was a mistake –“

“ _No it wasn’t,”_ Bokuto cuts him off. He fists his hands in the back of Kuroo’s shirt, rutting his hips against him. “C’mon – we don’t have to stop this, do we?”

Kuroo leans up on his forearm to look down at him, predatory. He rolls his hips so fucking slow Bokuto is pretty sure he’ll die before he finishes. “I suppose not,” he growls, sending Bokuto’s head spinning.  

“Please – _fuck me_ , please, Kuroo.”

A shotgun shell wizzes over Kuroo’s head.

Bokuto reacts before Kuroo does, training kicking in. He rolls them and spreads his body out, covering Kuroo as much as he can. He looks for the source of their attacker, acutely aware of the blood flowing out of his arm and his neck.

It’s Akaashi. Akaashi is standing over them at the edge of the little clearing, reloading his gun with wide, panicked eyes. Bokuto has never seen him look like that.

“Bokuto, move!” Akaashi orders. He levels the gun at them again. He won’t miss a second time.

Bokuto scrambles, kneeling in front of Kuroo, spreading his arms as wide as he can. “Kuroo, _go!”_ By some miracle, he does. Bokuto can feel leaves get kicked over his legs as Kuroo scrambles away.

Akaashi trains the gun on Kuroo’s back. Bokuto leaps to his feet.

“Akaashi, no! Don’t shoot!” Later, Bokuto will wonder why they didn’t have a contingency plan in place for this.

“Bokuto, _move_ ,” Akaashi orders.

Bokuto risks a look over his shoulder. Kuroo is nowhere to be seen or heard. The forest, usually so alive, is so quiet it almost hurts.

“Akaashi, listen to me-“

Akaashi’s eyes are darting all over him, eventually landing on his neck. He stumbles forward, clutching at his shirt. He looks so _scared._ “Bokuto – Bokuto are you hurt? Are you okay? You’re gonna be fine. Are you light-headed? Do you-“

Bokuto shakes his head. He’s weak in the knees but he’s pretty sure it’s not really from blood loss. “I’m fine. Akaashi, don’t hurt him.”

“Okay, okay, just sit down, okay? You-“ Akaashi stops abruptly, as he processes what Bokuto said. “What?”

“Don’t hurt him,” Bokuto repeats fervently. He’s grasping for words, for an explanation that won’t come. “He’s – he’s not bad. He just – I wanted – He needed to-“

“Bokuto,” Akaashi cuts in, “What did he _do_ to you?” He looks horrified, pity and sympathy behind his eyes.

Bokuto should just lie. He knows he should but he can’t.

“It’s not like that, Kaashi. He’s my friend,” Bokuto says desperately.

“No, he isn’t.” Akaashi reaches up to Bokuto’s hair and gently brushes it away from his forehead. (Bokuto realizes there must be leaves and sticks and dirt stuck in it from the way he’d been writhing around.) “Try to focus, and breathe. He manipulated you, Bokuto. He hurt you.”

“Keiji, I swear, he didn’t,” Bokuto tries again. “His name is Kuroo, he was hungry, he’s been starving himself for _me_ , because we’re friends.”

“I’m sure that’s what he told you.” Akaashi grabs his wrist and pulls, scanning the woods around them. “Let’s go – he could come back, and we need to get you to a doctor.”

Bokuto rips his hand away with more violence than he means. “Akaashi! Listen to me!” His voice rings out, too loud. He feverishly hopes that Kuroo is too far away to hear it. “You have to _listen_.” Akaashi frowns but puts his hands up in a placating gesture. “His name is Kuroo. We met a long time ago – the first night I spent out in the woods. Remember that?” Akaashi’s eyes narrow dangerously. He remembers. “We’ve been meeting out here. It’s not – vampires aren’t what we’ve been told, Keiji, at least not all of them. I know it’s crazy, but you have to believe me.” Akaashi does _not_ believe him. Bokuto feels hot tears gathering in his eyes. “Please, believe me.”

Suddenly, Akaashi’s gaze sharpens, enough to cut right through him. “Believe you?” he says bitingly. “Believe that our _best Hunter_ has gone rogue? Believe that my best friend of seven years has been fucking a vampire? I’d rather not, if you’ll excuse me.”

Bokuto grabs onto his hair and _pulls_ , trying to think. “Akaashi, please-“

Akaashi silences him with a raised hand. He closes his eyes and takes two deep breaths. He opens them and fixes Bokuto with a cold, impartial stare. “Have you slept with him before?”

“No.” (Technically.)

“Has he _ever_ hurt you before tonight?”

“He didn’t hurt me, I pr-“

“Bokuto.”

Bokuto swallows down the panic. “No. He’s never hurt me.”

“Has he ever tried to get you to come with him?”

Bokuto hesitates, a second too long. Akaashi swears, violently, raising his gun to point it right at Bokuto’s head. “Are you in love with him?”

Bokuto can’t answer. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out.

“ _Koutarou.”_ Akaashi sounds heartbroken, desperate, pleading.

Bokuto still can’t answer. He hangs his head, tears falling from his eyes. He hopes Akaashi shoots him. He shivers in the cold. Dawn is coming.

Akaashi’s gun finally falls. He straightens his shoulders. Bokuto watches from the corner of his eye, still hanging his head.

When Akaashi speaks, it’s calm and firm. “You are going to come back home, with me. You are going to go to bed, and when you wake up, we will sort this fucking mess. And because I love you, I won’t tell anyone about this.”

Bokuto looks at Akaashi sharply. “What?”

“I won’t tell anyone. Everyone’s allowed a mistake,” he reasons, sounding unsure. Akaashi _never_ sounds unsure. “But this can’t go on, Bokuto. I don’t know how he did it, but he hurt you. Put that in your head, right now. He is _not to be trusted,”_ Akaashi growls.

“Keiji…”

“ _Say it_ , Bokuto. Please, say it. Or I might change my mind,” Akaashi pleads.

Bokuto hesitates, and the longer he goes without saying anything the worse it hurts. It _hurts._ He’s being split apart – Akaashi is keeping him anchored here, but Kuroo is running away from him, is begging him to _run run run run._ He has to be stronger if there’s a chance he’s going to survive this, if there’s a chance he’s going to see Kuroo again. He has to lock up his heart

He sets his shoulders and stares Akaashi down.

 “We’ll talk,” Bokuto says flatly. “We’ll sort out this mess.”

Bokuto watches Akaashi literally bite his tongue. “Fine,” he spits eventually. He slings his gun across his shoulder again. His gaze softens, just the slightest, when he eyes Bokuto’s bloody arm and neck, still oozing. “Come on. We need to get that looked at.” Akaashi turns his back and stalks towards the city.

Bokuto takes a deep breath, and follows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what you liked!  
> Bit of bad news: I'm putting this on hiatus for now. Not because I'm not still working on it! I just haven't worked on the back half of this fic yet and I don't want anyone to be left hanging while I sort myself out. I'm still devoted to this fic, don't worry. I am still actively working on it, just giving myself a break from an update schedule (not that I've really had one). If you ever want an update on my progress, shoot me a message on Tumblr. (I'm the same there as here.)  
> Thanks especially to everyone who commented and left amazing compliments on this so far! You know who you are, and you're awesome


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all. Mini update because I'm almost done with the whole fic! :)  
> Serious thanks are owed to anyone who left me any comment at all. It kept me going when I didn't have inspiration/started to think this whole thing was stupid. I love you all!

“There’s another reporter here to see you.”

“Tell them they missed the scoop.”

Akaashi frowns. Bokuto doesn’t budge.

“Are you really going to turn every single one down?”

“I didn’t,” Bokuto snaps. “I talked to the first two.”

Akaashi’s eyes tighten, just barely. “Okay,” he says softly as he closes the door.

Bokuto rubs his yes, trying to block out the sounds of Akaashi making excuses for him. It’s far more than he deserves. Everyone thinks he’s a victim. In the eyes of the government and his family, he’s a cautionary tale. He’s still a hero, though, so he’s given the royal treatment. Time off from work, an advance on his paycheck; his family was even given an afternoon off from work so they could visit him. That’s probably the most miserable part of this entire affair – his mother’s wide-eyed worry and his father’s quiet panic. He’d still been confined to a hospital bed, against his will, while his parents had pawed at him and fawned over him sick with worry and thanking Akaashi profusely with misty eyes. Akaashi, to his credit, had taken it as stoically as ever. Bokuto could see though – he never really stopped frowning, and when he thought no one was looking he was pale and shaking.

That was four days ago.

They’d barely spoken, and Bokuto has never felt so miserably alone.

He’s had plenty of attention. Reporters and doctors and hunters and officers and everyone in the fucking city wants to know how the best vampire hunter in Fukurodani got got by a vamp. He figures he owed it to them to at least answer _some_ questions. But the second reporter had asked him _so tell me: how are you going to track down the vamp that got you?_ Bokuto had stuttered out some pathetic sounding nonsense and ended the interview.

Because he didn’t know.

Akaashi had been watching him like a coked out hawk, and there was usually a reporter or two lurking around his apartment building. He’d been trapped here, with no way of talking to Kuroo or seeing him, or knowing if he’d gotten back safe. He doesn’t know if Kuroo is thinking about him, he doesn’t know if Kuroo has given up on him. He doesn’t know if what happened that night means anything to anyone but him.                

It seems cosmically unfair that he could have lost both Kuroo and Akaashi as a result of the same moment of weakness.

Bokuto shakes himself out of it with a grunt. He’s sore again. He’s spent almost all of every day in his room in bed, even though sometimes he’s felt like he’ll crawl out of his skin. He’s occupied himself with doing push-ups and crunches and squats until every muscle in his body feels like jelly, and reading through his pathetic collection of books. He thumbs through that old poetry book from Akaashi a few times, but there’s too many about heartache and nostalgia and the color of deep red roses and it makes the heavy ache in his chest so bad he can hardly breathe. Normally he’d talk it out with Akaashi, but every time Akaashi looks at him Bokuto feels like a traitor and a failure and it’s just too much.

So he stares at the ceiling and tries not to think about anything at all. 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I'm back from hiatus! I can't promise an update schedule of any kind, but I only have one chapter of the fic left to write! How exciting!!!! I hope you enjoy this chapter and the second half of the fic!

 

“Kenma, run!”

Bokuto knows that voice. He’s heard it in his dreams every night all week, so he’s sure he’s dreaming now when he hears it again. He sprints for the source anyway.

There’s a dark alley ahead of him that sounds like the source of it. There’s trash cans tumbling into the street and lots of shouting. Loud and clear though, he can hear Kuroo.

“Get _off_ him!” Kuroo screams. “Kenma!”

It’s too far away. He _sprints,_ trying not to imagine the worst. Of all the ways for him to see Kuroo again, of the thousand possible scenarios, he’d never imagined Kuroo _here, now,_ when Bokuto has just ventured back into the city for the first time since – since it happened. The week has been a haze and blur of loneliness and worry and misery and _this_ is the culmination of it? It doesn’t seem fair.

As he runs, Bokuto is tormented with the sounds of Kuroo’s screaming, and violent crashes and thuds that make his fingers go numb. Kuroo is practically sobbing – it’s a wonder the entire city hasn’t arrived to see the commotion.

Bokuto makes it to the mouth of the alley. It’s nearly entirely shrouded in shadow. After his eyes adjust, he sees so much at once that for a second he can’t see anything at all.

 _Ushiwaka_ is there, first of all, him and his little lapdog Tendou. The huge Hunter has Kuroo pinned with a hand on his throat. The skinny fuck with horse teeth is grappling with a much smaller figure. The little thing is putting up an incredible fight. So incredible that it takes Bokuto a moment to realize that the “little thing” isn’t actually that little; he’s just dwarfed by everyone else around him.

It’s in his next breath that he puts it together that it’s Kenma. _The_ Kenma. _Shit_.  

He doesn’t leap to action though – the tiny part of him that’s able to remain rational despite Kuroo being _right there right there is he hurt oh gods he’s right there_ is holding him back. Instead he calls, “Need some help, partner?” Bokuto is oppressively aware of the afternoon sun beating down behind him. 

Ushiwaka looks over at him. “We found them,” he says simply.

Even now, in a literal crisis, his tone is flat and dismissive. Bokuto prickles. “I can see that,” he says as smoothly as he can.

“Kenma!” Kuroo shouts – hasn’t stopped shouting. He’s kicking at Ushiwaka fiercely, tearing at his arm to try and get free. Ushiwaka is wearing his hunter’s jacket, so Kuroo’s nails scrabble useless over the leather. “Leave him alone!” he pleads again. Bokuto’s heart aches at the panic, the fear in his voice. He doesn’t seem to have noticed Bokuto at all.

Tendou finally manages to pin Kenma, holding his arms behind his back. Kenma’s face is twisted into a pout – he doesn’t look angry or hurt, just put out and inconvenienced, two-toned hair mussed as he blows it out of his face. Kuroo makes an awful sound – some terrifying cross between a screech and a roar – and pulls futilely at Ushijima’s arms.

“Looks like news of your attack has spread, Bokuto,” Tendou leers, breathing heavily.

“What do you mean?” Bokuto snaps, hands itching for his knife. Kuroo finally spots Bokuto. His eyes go wide and his mouth clamps shut and his body falls utterly still. Bokuto prays he stays that way.

“Well these two,” Tendou replies, giving Kenma a shake that makes Kuroo growl, “are testing their luck in the middle of the day. They wouldn’t do that unless they thought Fukurodani was unprotected territory.”

“Is that so?” Bokuto says dispassionately, surveying them as coolly as he can. Kuroo is looking at him so hard Bokuto is worried he’ll catch fire. “Well, thanks for the help, but as this _is_ Fukurodani territory, I’ll take it from here.” Bokuto’s eyes narrow suspiciously, despite himself. “What are you two doing out here, anyway?” Shiratorizawa is miles and miles away.

Tendou smirks. “Your boss asked us to cover a few of your extra shifts while you _recovered_.” The way he sneers over the word, _recovered_ , makes Bokuto long to punch him right in his overgrown teeth.

“You’ll take it from here?” Ushiwaka interrupts, before Bokuto can say something stupid. (First time Bokuto has ever been grateful to him.) “I don’t think we’ll need assistance.” He still has his hand on Kuroo’s throat. Kuroo isn’t struggling anymore, but Bokuto can tell he’s having a hard time breathing.

“I’m sure we won’t,” Tendou says before Bokuto has a chance to counter. He jerks Kenma’s arms in a painful looking way – Bokuto tries not to flinch at the pained gurgle Kuroo gives – and steers him towards the mouth of the alley. “You’re welcome to watch, though.”

“Watch?” Bokuto repeats dumbly, before he realizes.

Tendou is going to throw Kenma into the sun.

Bokuto’s blood freezes. All his senses sharpen, so he can hear Kuroo’s wail of panic in perfect clarity. Tendou, luckily, doesn’t notice Bokuto’s distress, but just drags Kenma forward. He seems content to let it draw out, laughing as Kenma struggles. The way Tendou has him means Kenma just doesn’t have the leverage to escape, no matter what he does. Ushiwaka watches impassively, even as Kuroo screams and fights and his fingernails bite into his hand hard enough to draw blood.   

“Bokuto!” Kuroo begs, lunging for him desperately, reaching out with both hands. Bokuto sees him but can’t make himself move. “Bokuto, please! Kenma!” he sobs, mindlessly. In his panic, so fast that Bokuto barely sees it, he throws off Ushiwaka’s arm for a second. Bokuto’s heart leaps with joy, but in the next moment Ushiwaka has him pinned again, slamming his face against the concrete wall with a loud crunch. Kuroo’s eyes slide out of focus for a moment, but retrain themselves on Kenma.

Tendou has nearly tired of teasing. He’s pulling Kenma along, sneering at Kuroo’s screams of protest. “Do you two know each other?” he says snidely to Bokuto, making to bypass Bokuto with Kenma in tow.

The panic that’s coursing through Bokuto gives him just enough of an idea to act. He throws an arm out, stopping Tendou in his tracks. “You’re the one that said my name in front of it,” he says coldly, shoving him back.

Tendou, if anything, looks even more pleased at his show of aggression. “Want to take care of him yourself?” Tendou asks, shoving Kenma forward at Bokuto, hard enough that he stumbles. Kuroo shouts and tries to escape again, despite the blood trickling down the side of his face.

Bokuto catches him, trying not to look too tender about it. “I have reason to believe they’re involved with a larger conspiracy,” Bokuto invents, speaking calmly despite the way his fingertips are numb. “I need to take them in.”

Tendou’s eyebrows raise while Ushiwaka’s lower into a glower. “What’s this?” Tendou asks as Bokuto grabs at the nape of Kenma’s neck. He has to shake him around a little, just to make it look good. He also has to ignore Kuroo entirely. “A conspiracy?”

“If you’ve spoken to Yamiji, then you know what my current assignment is,” Bokuto says confidently, puffing his shoulders out. It’s nearly painful to ignore Kuroo’s angry eyes, to ignore the blood trickling down Kuroo’s chin and dripping onto his shirt. “It’s Fukurodani business, no need for either of you trouble yourselves,” he says with a warm smile.

Ushijima frowns earnestly. “If you need to take them in we can help. It might be dangerous.”

“I don’t think they’ll be giving me much trouble in the middle of the day. I think they know they’re in deep shit.” (It _isn’t_ the middle of the day, it’s pre-dusk at best.) Bokuto fixes Kuroo with a cold look. “Don’t you?” After a sickeningly long moment where Bokuto is sure his heart will lurch right out of his chest, Kuroo nods haltingly.

Tendou puts his hands on his hips and grins cheekily at him. “I guess you’re back in top form, huh?” It should be a compliment but it still makes Bokuto’s hair stand on end.

Ushiwaka reluctantly pulls Kuroo off the wall and hands him off to Bokuto. Bokuto doesn’t meet Kuroo’s eyes, tries not to let his gaze linger over the blood. Ushiwaka surely thinks his being helpful when he takes the hood of the jacket Kuroo is wearing and shoves it roughly over his eyes, but Bokuto barely restrains himself from biting his arm off. He settles for doing the same to Kenma, stomach dropping when Kuroo growls at him.

 _Please understand,_ he begs silently, keeping his eyes trained somewhere behind Kuroo’s head. _Please. Understand._

Tendou and Ushijima help Bokuto bind Kuroo and Kenma’s wrists. Bokuto feels bile rise in his throat at the unnecessary force Ushijima uses on Kenma’s tiny, unresisting frame. Kuroo’s eyes are wild, rabid, animalistic, as Tendou binds Kuroo’s hands together at the small of his back. Kuroo doesn’t look like himself. He looks like a tiny, trapped, pathetic thing, and Bokuto wants more than anything to brush his hair back and tell him everything will be okay. (Even though there’s a good chance that’s a lie.)

Bokuto places one hand on the back of Kuroo’s neck, and is so grateful when he doesn’t fight it. He does the same to Kenma. His long hair hangs in front of his face under the hood, so Bokuto has no idea of his expression. “Now boys,” he says calmly, flexing his biceps so it looks like he’s squeezing his hands, “I don’t want any trouble. Understood?” He gives them both a little shake, because Ushiwaka and Tendou are standing in front of him, blocking his exit.

“Understood,” Kuroo spits, jerking in Bokuto’s grasp but not hard enough to get away.

“Good,” Bokuto says airily, “because I’d hate for anything to happen to the two of you.” He hopes Kuroo hears (and believes) the sincerity.

“I still don’t think it’s necessary for you to go alone,” Ushijima interjects, a deep frown marring his normally stoic features. Bless him. Bokuto may have to revise his opinion on Wakatoshi.

“I’ll be fine,” Bokuto insists. “But I do owe you one. Next time you’re in town, give me a call, we’ll grab a beer,” Bokuto says lightly, steering his cargo through the rather impressive wall created by Ushijima and Tendou. “Thanks for the help! Call the office if you have any follow-up questions or concerns!” The other Hunters part easily for him, and Bokuto steers two vampires into the bright sunlight.

For a second, he’s sure they’ll burn to dust even though all of their skin is completely covered. But nothing happens – they both shuffle along under Bokuto’s guidance. To avoid the sun, they have to keep their heads so low their chins bounce against their chests. Bokuto winces; it must be uncomfortable, if not outright painful.

There’s no one on this street, so Bokuto takes his chance. He leans over to Kuroo’s ear to speak.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses.

Kuroo doesn’t answer. He gives a little shrug of his shoulders and turns his head away, so Bokuto can’t see any part of his face.

Bokuto’s blood throbs angrily. What the fuck? “Kuroo, please. You had to know how dangerous this was. Why are you here?” Anger creeps into his voice and he swallows hard. Kuroo still doesn’t answer.

Bokuto is about to get petulant when Kenma speaks up. “He was worried about you,” he says softly. Kenma’s voice suits him perfectly, low and a little rough around the edges.

Bokuto can feel Kuroo stiffen, see the set of his shoulders tighten. Bokuto frowns. “Worried about me?” he repeats, cutting his eyes over to Kenma. He steers them down another empty alley.

Kenma nods, head bouncing beneath his hood. “He was sure you were languishing away in some prison cell for treason.” Bokuto, despite it all, despite the danger of the sun peeking into the alleyway all around them, despite the literal mortal peril they’re all in, feels himself blush.

Kenma continues, “He was all ready to save the day and be a big hero. I couldn’t let him go on his own.” Kenma sighs wearily. “Idiots, both of us.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo mutters wearily.

“Kuroo,” Kenma retorts, mocking.

“You shouldn’t have come with me.” Kuroo says it like he’s said it a hundred times.

“And let you get captured on your own?” Kenma says, calm and methodical despite Kuroo’s ire. Bokuto envies him.

“I _wouldn’t_ have been caught if I hadn’t been looking out for you,” Kuroo mutters without much conviction.

“Next time I’ll let you get yourself killed over nothing, then.”

“It _wasn’t-“_ Kuroo starts hotly, turning to look at Kenma, but cuts himself off abruptly before Bokuto can catch his eye. “It wasn’t nothing,” he says, retraining his eyes on the ground.

Bokuto feels a funny surge of affection, and just as quickly tamps it down without totally understanding why. His breath feels tight in his chest, and Kuroo and Kenma’s conversation is background noise compared to the thumping of his heart. _What do I do? What do I do? what do I do what do I do…_ And he almost doesn’t heart it when Kenma asks him, “What do we do now, Bokuto?”

 “I don’t know,” Bokuto whispers, echoing his thoughts. “I don’t know.”

“Just point us to the exit,” Kuroo says hastily. “We’ll get out of here on our own.”

“You’ll get caught.” Bokuto can feel it in his bones.

“We’re not stupid, Bo, just-“

“We already got caught once,” Kenma says smoothly.

Kuroo makes a sound in his throat, an angry, choked noise. It almost sounds embarrassed. His head hangs down further, shoulders slumping. “I don’t want to put Bokuto in any more danger.”

Bokuto feels his heart soar and clamps down on it again. “I’ll get you out of here. Promise.” He rubs his thumb along the side of Kuroo’s neck slowly, trying not to indulge in it too much.

He leads them by the neck through dark alleys and side streets, ears straining for any tiny sound, eyes scanning for any little movement. He’s walked these streets his entire life and suddenly there’s danger in every dark corner, hostility in every echoing footfall. Adding to his anxiety is the way Kuroo had glared at him. He’s pictured it endlessly, a hundred scenarios, some sweet, some ridiculous, some he had only allowed himself to think of in the privacy of his room. Instead, he gets this. The first time they’ve seen each other after that awful night, after this awful _week_ , is Bokuto threatening them after Kuroo had nearly watched Kenma be killed. It’s beyond distressing, it feels intentionally cruel. Bokuto is tempted to ask the universe for a damn break but knows that would just be an invitation for more _fucking misery_.

At least the sun goes down.

Bokuto can clearly see when the sun disappears behind the far trees, watching a few rays reach out to them, trying to nab them at the last second. It’s not sunset, not technically, but the sun won’t be a danger to Kuroo and Kenma anymore. Their heads perk up a little. Kuroo rolls his neck.

“Any chance you can untie us?” Kuroo asks, flexing his wrists.

Bokuto hesitates. As much as he hates seeing them bound, he knows it might make the situation harder to explain if they are caught.

Before he can explain as much, Kenma says, “It someone doesn’t believe you we’ll be screwed anyway. If you untied us we could at least help you fight, or run,” he says, as if he doesn’t care one way or the other but feels obligated to point out the most logical option anyway.

Bokuto can’t argue with that. He stops and takes out his knife. He hates not moving. _Get better cover get out of sight MOVE OR DIE,_ his training insists. Despite the seclusion of their position he can’t help but feel exposed. He has to force himself to focus, eyes wanting to dart in all directions, as he cuts the ties off Kenma’s wrists, then Kuroo’s. Bokuto shoves the ropes into his pockets as they flex and stretch their wrists. Bokuto is able to take his first good look at Kenma. He’s got a pinched face – not angry or haughty, but perpetually inconvenienced. His eyes are sharp and shrewd like Kuroo’s but pulled back – observant instead of antagonistic.

Kuroo won’t quite look him in the eye. He’s staring at his shoes, rubbing at the skin where the ropes at been, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket, resettling the hood over his hair. He’s fidgeting – he’s _shy_ , Bokuto realizes, with a dizzying surge of affection. He can’t stop himself – he reaches out to brush his fingertips lightly against the back of Kuroo’s hand.

Kuroo finally stills, looking down at where they’re touching. He blinks a few times – Bokuto can see his long lashes flutter against his cheekbones. Finally, slowly, Kuroo looks up, nervous and apprehensive and restrained. He’s so _fucking pretty_.

“Hey,” Bokuto breathes, heart beating ruthlessly against his chest, as if it’s trying to make sure everyone knows exactly how he’s feeling.

“Hey,” Kuroo breathes back. He swallows gently, lips parting, as he turns his hand to catch Bokuto’s fingers in his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

And Bokuto really couldn’t stop himself even if he’d wanted to – he pulls Kuroo into his arms, holding on with all he’s got. Kuroo holds him back just as tight. Fuck daydreaming – his imagination hadn’t accounted for Kuroo’s nose smushed against the side of his neck, the tickle of Kuroo’s breathless laughter buzzing against his fingertips, the way their feet bump against each other as they get as close to each other as they can. His heart is going a million miles a minute but his mind is so quiet – so calm.

“We don’t have time for this,” Kenma says flatly.

They don’t _spring_ apart, but it’s a near thing. Kuroo’s arms are still slung around his neck, Bokuto’s hands settled on Kuroo’s hips. Bokuto licks his lips, and watches Kuroo track the movement with his eyes. He doesn’t have time to think about what that might mean right now but _gods_ does he want to.

Instead, he compromises by grabbing Kuroo’s hand, linking their fingers and turning to keep them moving again. He feels Kuroo squeeze his hand, and it seems to correspond directly to Bokuto’s fluttering heart.

“This way,” he mutters, knowing that both Kenma and Kuroo can see (and maybe smell?) the way his face is flushing.

“What’s the plan?” Kuroo asks. His hand is so soft.

“Not get seen. Get you to the eastern wall, you two climb up and over and go.”

He can feel Kuroo frowning at the back of his head. “That it? What’s the back up plan?”

“If I say run, you go.”

Kuroo’s hand tightens in his. “But what if you’re in danger?”

“I promised to keep you safe. This is the only way I can do that.” He manages not to let his voice waver, to sound like Bokuto the Hunter and not like Bokuto the Coward.

“But Bokuto-“

“If we all stay quiet and do what I say, it shouldn’t come to that,” Bokuto says forcefully. Bokuto feels the weight of both of their stares, but neither Kuroo nor Kenma challenges him.

Bokuto steers them towards the eastern wall with sure steps, trying to look more confident than he feels. He’d learned a long time ago that confidence will get him out of almost anything. He hopes that the philosophy holds true for at least twenty more minutes. If he can just avoid the factory shifts changing, and avoid any cops looking for out of curfew teenagers, they’ll make it out of this alive.

“ _Change_ ,” a hoarse voice hisses at them from the shadows.

A funny thing happens where Bokuto and Kuroo both try to jump in front of the other, but Bokuto is just that bit faster. Kenma hangs behind. Their eyes scan around them intently for the source of the noise…it’s quiet…it’s quiet it’s quiet…

“ _Change?”_ the voice hisses again.

Kenma finds it first. “There,” he says softly. When Bokuto turns to look at Kenma, he’s pointing to a doorway, shrouded with cloth and hidden behind stacked boxes.

A shriveled old hand reaches out towards them. “Change?” the voice asks again, thick and raspy but gentler.

“Sorry,” Bokuto says, sincerely and so relieved he thinks he might faint. “We don’t have anything.” The hand retreats, and the three of the pass by unmolested.

When they round the next corner Kuroo tugs on Bokuto’s sleeve. “What was that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why were they out here – they’re old, don’t they need looking after? What did they mean, change?”

“Oh.” Bokuto feels a hot rush of shame, though he can’t place the origin. “She’s homeless. She just doesn’t – have anywhere else to go,” he says, as gently as possible.

Bokuto feels the hair on the back of his neck prickle as Kuroo narrows his eyes. “How’s that possible? It’s a massive city.”

Bokuto shrugs, cornered. “I don’t know. Do – do vampires not have homeless people?”

“ _No,_ because that’s barbaric!” Kuroo insists, a little too loudly.

“It’s _not_ , it’s just the way the system works!”

“Keep it down,” Kenma says lowly.

“How can anyone live knowing there are people who live like that _?”_ Kuroo demands, kicking a stray box out of his path as he stomps behind Bokuto. “How can the system not protect people who can’t prove for themselves?”

“There – there just isn’t enough money to go around,” Bokuto says, pleading a little.

“Bullshit,” Kuroo seethes. “I saw the better parts of town. You’re telling me they don’t have the money to spare?”

Bokuto’s gut squirms and twists – he might actually puke. “If someone doesn’t work – “

“You don’t think she _wants_ to work?” Kuroo shouts, grabbing Bokuto’s arm and spinning him around. “Tell me you’re really not this stupid, Bokuto,” he sneers.

“ _Please_ keep it down,” Kenma says again.

Bokuto rips out of Kuroo’s grasp, blood running hot and fast, nerves stinging. “Kuroo, I – I don’t know what you want me to say, here.”

“I want you to say you know it’s _bullshit!”_ Kuroo insists again, folding his arms and glaring at Bokuto. “You can’t possibly believe all those _lies,_ Bokuto, not now. Not after –“ and he stops, grimaces, looks away.

“After what?” Bokuto prompts, heart thumping out of his chest.

“Never mind,” Kuroo bites, shaking his head angrily. “Let’s go.” Kuroo refuses to say anything more, and he won’t meet Bokuto’s eyes either.

And if there was any justice of if Bokuto had any luck left that would have been the end of it. But Bokuto hadn’t accounted for Hunters looking to bag a few on their way to clock out of their patrol shifts.

Bokuto can actually see the wall that Kuroo and Kenma will need to climb over – dead ahead, the guards have cycled out of this part of their patrol so they’re totally clear – and he’s just turned around to tell them so when he hears a gruff “ _Hey! What are you kids doing out here?”_  from behind them.

Bokuto reacts before he can think. He runs, towards the wall, pulling Kuroo behind him, hoping that Kenma is keeping pace. Their pursuer is chasing them – their footfalls are heavy and echoing. Bokuto yanks on Kuroo’s arm and pushes him in front.

“I thought I heard shouting. You kids get back here!”

“ _Go,”_ Bokuto whispers hoarsely. “I’m right behind you.” He slows his frantic run, just for a second, so Kenma can overtake him. Kuroo and Kenma won’t pass for humans, and there’s no excuse he can make that’ll explain what they’re doing here together, and this Hunter, whoever they are, has mistaken them for out-of-curfew teenagers and will want to bring them in.

Another Hunter darts in front of them. The guy behind them must have a partner, that’s the only way anyone else heard the commotion and got here that fast. Kuroo, completely on instinct, crouches and bares his fangs. Bokuto can’t see it, but his eyes must glint off the moon.

“Bad luck, sucker,” the Hunter growls, grinning as she cocks her pistol. Kenma lunges, knocking her gun astray and pulling behind her knees so she slams to the ground. She snarls and lunches for him, but he’s smaller and faster than her. He, Bokuto, and Kuroo leap over her as she scrambles to catch their ankles and trip them up.

“ _Bokuto_?” the Hunter behind them shouts.

Bokuto feels his entire body go numb. Kuroo, reacting too late, pulls up Bokuto’s hood, but it’s too late. He’s already been recognized. His steps falter, but Kuroo pushes him on.

“Koutarou! Stop!” the woman yells. Bokuto can hear her re-cock her pistol, can practically feel himself in the crosshairs. He yanks on Kuroo’s hand, shoving him in front, hoping that in the confusion neither of them will shoot. He keeps running.

Kuroo scrambles up the side of a building, light on his feet and nearly silent. Kenma wastes precious seconds unable to leap to the first hand hold. Bokuto grabs him under the arms and hoists him up, making sure he’s got a good grip before scaling the wall next to him. Kenma, unlike Kuroo, doesn’t seem to be practiced in this sort of thing, so Bokuto beats him to the top. He and Kuroo lean down to grip Kenma and haul him up.

Bokuto’s heart is beating so hard he can barely breathe – it’s pounding and pounding and pounding, clawing and scratching at his ribs and throat. The wall is behind him, and he can feel the empty expanse of forest like it has eyes, like it’s staring at him, daring him not to do what he’s about to do.

“Bokuto?” Kuroo prompts, like he really can read Bokuto’s mind.

“We jump and run. Don’t stop running for anything.” Bokuto’s voice only shakes a little.

Kuroo opens his mouth, probably to fucking argue, even now, _goddammit,_ but Kenma beats him. “Okay. Stick close to us,” he says calmly, like he’s _not_ about to put his life in the hands of a vampire Hunter he just met. It’s a little hysterical, really.

Kuroo grimaces but doesn’t argue further. He wouldn’t have a chance anyway; their pursuer is right beneath them.

“Bokuto Koutarou! Halt!”

They all ignore the order. Bokuto scans the trees – there’s one that he should be able to make it to. He pants, trying to catch his breath, as every instinct in his body begs him not to do what he’s about to do, or to wake up from this nightmare, or just plummet to his death.

But Kuroo grasps his hand, gently.

He jumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think! I'm really proud of this fic, and I'm so glad that the response has been positive. Please leave a comment letting me know what you're excited about, or what you think might happen next! :D


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is long and a little unwieldy and I'm not 100% happy with it to be honest.  
> But guys...there's smut in this chapter.
> 
> (And yes, it's exactly what you think.)

“Almost there,” Kuroo whispers.

Bokuto tries not to sob in relief. His lungs have been burning the whole last mile but he didn’t dare stop. As he tired, and as the wind rushed through his ears, he couldn’t really be sure they’d lost their tail. He’s a fit person, but he’s spent a week in his bedroom with no cardio to speak of and running in the gym is different than running for your life.

Bokuto recognizes the thickness of the trees that surround the vampire city. Kenma is running behind them, silent, while Kuroo keeps pace beside Bokuto. He looks more deadly than ever, eyes sharp when he looks around, muscles bunching and flexing marvelously under his clothes as he lopes through the trees – through his _territory_ , Bokuto thinks with a shiver.

Bokuto stumbles a few times, but Kuroo is always there to catch him. Bokuto tries really really hard not to read into that.

 _Finally_ , Kuroo signals them to stop. Bokuto immediately doubles over, gasping for breath. Kuroo pats him absently on the back. Bokuto can just barely make out what Kenma is saying over his heart in his ears and the rush of air in and out of his lungs.

“What’s the plan, here?” Kenma asks flatly.

“What do you mean?”

“Are we sneaking him in? That might take too long. Those Hunters are good.” Kenma sniffs, scenting the air.

“I – I don’t know,” Kuroo falters.

“It’s not like you have time to decide.”

Kuroo laughs, but it’s the unpleasant one, the one that means he’s actually angry. “When have I ever decided anything?” Bokuto hears a dull sound, and then a yelp from Kuroo. “Hey!”

“Don’t be melodramatic now,” Kenma says plainly. “I asked what your plan is.”

Kuroo’s hand on Bokuto’s back stills. Bokuto can make out the feeling of his entire hand, slender fingers and wide palm, through the leather of his jacket. “The front gates,” Kuroo says solemnly.

“And you’re prepared for that?” Kenma asks, doubt and suspicion coloring his tone. 

Kuroo’s hand rubs slowly up and down his back as Bokuto finally stops gasping for air. Bokuto straightens up, looking at Kuroo for his answer to Kenma’s question, though he doesn’t understand it. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says softly, taking Bokuto’s hand. “I am.”

Okay _that’s_ cryptic.

Bokuto doesn’t have time to react though. Kuroo pulls him through the trees, into the clearing. It’s – it’s not exactly the same – the stone of the wall isn’t glowing as brightly. It’s dim and dull. Bokuto frowns – Kuroo must see it from the corner of his eye.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s – why isn’t it as bright? The stone?” Bokuto whispers – the wall before him is still imposing and intimidating. The thought of being trapped behind them makes him squirm, but he doesn’t have much choice.

“It reacts to moonlight,” Kenma answers. “The moon is still low, but it’ll get brighter.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops. “ _How?”_

Kuroo’s eyes light up. “The rock has photo reflective qualities. Well, we _made_ it have photo reflective qualities. It’s a coating I worked on a while back – it’s pretty incredible stuff. It’s sensitive to heat, too, not just light, so it doesn’t light up just from the sun. With the sun’s direct heat, it stays dim. Took me _forever_ to figure out how to get it not to just be glowing like crazy all day. It’s kind of a funny story, actually –“

“It isn’t,” Kenma interrupts. Bokuto snorts – he’s never imagined anyone talking to Kuroo like this. But the laugh dies in his throat – now they’re right against the wall. Kuroo seems to look up at it with just as much trepidation as Bokuto feels.

With the grandeur of the wall right in front of him, Bokuto is expecting a subtle or somehow formal entrance. Instead, Kuroo open-palm slaps the wall, crying out, “Yo! Open up!”

From far away and high up, a voice calls down to them. “Who goes there?”

Kuroo and Kenma’s eyes roll simultaneously, so far back that it looks painful. “Cut the shit, Lev!” Kuroo barks.

Bokuto hears a devious sounding laugh that doesn’t quite manage to put his hair on end, but it’s a near thing. “What’s the password?”

“Open the door, please,” Kenma calls. Despite the fact that he’s raising his voice, he sounds as impassive as ever. Bokuto gets the sense that he wouldn’t want to piss Kenma off, but he’d have no way of knowing if he did.

“Who’s your friend?”

“Mind your damn business,” Kuroo bites.

“Can’t let anyone in unidentified,” the voice says smugly.

“It’s a human, he’s with me.”

“A _human?!_ ”

“Just let them in, Lev,” someone else says.

Kuroo sags in exaggerated relief. “Alisa is that you? Thank _god,_ open up, we were pursued.”

“ _Pursued?”_ the first voice says, stunned. “ _You?”_

“If you don’t open the fucking door right now I swear on _everything I own_ that I will come up there and-“

A door swings open.

The hallway before them is dim, an enclosed tunnel, made of the same stone as the outer wall. Kuroo and Kenma don’t have any trouble, but Bokuto’s tongue feels thick and heavy with trepidation at entering the dark, enclosed space.

Kuroo, as always, seems to smell it on him. “Don’t worry,” he says smoothly. “You’re safe with me.”

Bokuto, as always, believes him.

The tunnel is a little brighter than it looked, but still dim for his human eyes. Kuroo pulls the hood of Bokuto’s jacket over his head for him, saying _In case anyone recognizes you_ when Bokuto gives him a questioning look. Bokuto can make out the four or five feet in front of him, but beyond that is dim. Kuroo keeps a steadying hand on his back, and Bokuto wonders if he can feel the blood rushing through his veins, smell the sweat that prickles on his temples and armpits.

Very soon, Bokuto can see that the tunnels empties them out directly into the city. Bokuto balks and wants to dig his heels into the ground. Before they get any farther though, a door down the hall bursts open, revealing a tall, silver haired man – boy? _creepy_ looking motherfucker leering down at them.

“Pursued by Hunters with a human in tow? What’s got _you_ taking risks all of a sudden, huh, Kuroo?” he asks, peering around to try and look under Bokuto’s hood.

Kuroo smacks the side of his head. “That’s mine,” Kuroo growls. Bokuto’s stomach drops and his heart skips a beat at the possessiveness of it. It was just a little _too_ quick to be completely fake. Maybe.

The tall vampire – _seriously how is he not hitting his head in here he’s so tall what the fuck_ – just grins. “Can’t fool me, Kuroo. I know what’s going on here.” He looks Bokuto up and down appreciatively – Bokuto keeps his eyes down and tries not to react. “You two go easy on him.” The tall beast steps aside. Kuroo shoves past him, pulling Bokuto along.

“See you, Lev,” Kenma says in farewell.

And then they’re in the vampire city.

There’s so much to look at, but the first impression is that it’s just a clean version of what he calls home. The streets are practically sparkling, despite the number of people – vampires – out. Everyone looks well rested and well fed, dressed in fine clothes cut to flatter and not for work. There’s a peace over-laying everything. No one is rushing anywhere, and everyone talks in quiet, polite tones. It’s…unsettling.

“Keep your head down,” Kuroo breathes, lacing their fingers together.

“But _Kuroo_ ,” he hisses.

“I know,” Kuroo tuts sympathetically, smiling a little past the way his lips are tight. “Some other time.”

Before Bokuto can ask what the trouble is – they made it inside, after all – he feels it. Eyes on him. Everywhere, from all directions, pressing heavily like thick smog. Everyone they pass is a vampire, and he must reek of human. Everyone looks him over curiously, staring unabashedly. Some of the eyes trail skeptically over Kuroo and Kenma, but he’s bearing the brunt of the attention. Bokuto hurries his footsteps, letting Kuroo lead him blindly.

He’s able to sneak a few looks, though. The buildings all look new somehow, though it’s illogical for them to be. The streets are neatly laid out in a wheel-and-spoke pattern, so despite the fact that he has no idea where they are, he never feels lost. In fact, he’s certain he could find his way around this place on his own. There are areas of town that are less crowded, but there seem to be plenty of places to gather interspersed almost evenly. But he can’t get a sense of how large the city actually is. That’s the most unsettling thing. The domed glass ceiling should bounce sound and air around in such a way that he has _some_ idea how large the city is, but he doesn’t. Either there’s an excellent ventilation system or the city is just that massive. Or both.

“Almost there,” Kuroo whispers, as they go deeper and deeper into the city.

“Almost where?” Bokuto hisses back.

Kuroo’s lip twitches in a smile. “My place.” The way he says it leaves Bokuto’s palms twitchy.

And the architectural design of this place really is magnificent because suddenly they’re in a courtyard. No gates, no separation, just a large and opulent courtyard surrounded on all sides by two story duplexes. Large windows face in, giving each unit a view of a massive willow-like tree, with stone benches circling it. As they pass under the hanging branches, Bokuto lets his hand trail across the leaves; a gentle lavender scent is released from the soft red spines.

“What’s this one called?” he whispers to Kuroo.

“Colloquially, a gathering tree,” Kuroo explains, brushing the backs of his fingers along the leaves too. “The low branches provide a little privacy, and the red makes them easy to spot.”

“Neat.”

Kuroo leads the three of them through the flowery garden, along a little stone path laid into the (light purple) grass. He pulls a small metal key from a pocket as they approach one set of windows – which apparently double as doors, because the key disappears into a small hole in the frame of the window and the entire thing slides away. Bokuto tries not to look too impressed.

“Here we are,” he says blithely, stepping in and slipping out of his shoes. Bokuto steps in carefully and does the same; Kuroo shuts the door behind him.

“Kenma?“ Bokuto asks, turning to look for him. He’s gone. “Where-“

“He does that,” Kuroo supplies. He seems unconcerned, shrugging out of his hooded jacket and hanging it on a small peg hanging from the wall.

Bokuto’s first impression as he looks around the small apartment is that it’s orderly. It’s lived in, imperfect in some ways, but organized. The most cluttered place in the living room are the bookshelves and the armchair beside them. As he looks around again, he realizes that it’s essentially only one room. He spies a door that might lead back out to the street, and another that might lead to a bathroom. It’s spacious, but efficient.

And now he’s alone with Kuroo.

Who doesn’t seem bothered in the least. In the corner next to what Bokuto has assumed is the front door is a large work table, stocked and stacked with lots of breakable looking science-y things. Kuroo makes his way through the apartment to the table, flicking on a bright industrial overhead light. Bokuto hovers in the doorway and watches as he prods at a few plants, making notes on a clipboard and tutting occasionally.

Bokuto feels clumsy and out of place. He stretches his arms, trying to relieve the tight-feeling in his stomach, eyeing the arm chair and wondering if he’s allowed to sit down.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo says suddenly, softly.

Bokuto starts anyway. He jumps, knees buckling briefly. “Yeah?”

“There’s a few things you need to know about being here,” he says dispassionately, keeping his eyes on his work. “Sit anywhere you like, but please listen carefully.”

Bokuto warily steps closer, crossing the long room, to perch on a cushioned stool near Kuroo’s work bench. “Okay.”

“Most importantly: don’t go anywhere without me. I can’t keep you safe if you’re not with me, and, as you might imagine, there are plenty of dangers around for a famous vampire hunter.

“Second, keep your guard up if I have to leave you here alone. In a city full of vampires, a human scent sticks out quite a bit. My neighbors know I have a human here. They shouldn’t cause trouble, but I expect you to be smart and stay out of their way.”

“Don’t cause trouble, got it.”

“Lastly, I think it’s only fair to explain to you what this situation will look like to outsiders.” For the first time, Kuroo’s voice falters slightly; a tightness, a trepidation, creeps into his tone. “As far as almost anyone else will be concerned, I plan to either eat you, fuck you and then eat you, or keep you as a pet doing both of those things indefinitely.” Bokuto flushes to the tips of his ears, but Kuroo continues on as if he hadn’t just put those images into Bokuto’s head. “That is what is expected of our relationship. No more, no less,” he articulates carefully, glancing over at Bokuto for the first time. “But I thought I should clarify that I don’t expect or need either of those things from you.”

“What about want?” slips out of his mouth. Bokuto immediately wants to die.

“What?” Kuroo says sharply, looking at Bokuto directly now.

Bokuto swallows, fidgeting with his fingers. He licks his lips, and he’s sure Kuroo tracks the movement with his eyes. “What about what you _want_ from me?”

Kuroo straightens and sets down his pen. “Bo…”

“What’s going on, Kuroo?” he asks, plaintive and small. He can’t meet Kuroo’s eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Bokuto huffs, frustrated. “What about – we – before-“ Bokuto gestures impatiently, but Kuroo does nothing to help him. “What are we doing, here?”

“I had to keep you safe.”

“A-and that’s all?”

“What else would there be?”

“Are you fucking serious?” Bokuto bites out, mouth ahead of his brain.

“Yes?” Kuroo snaps. “What did you expect?”

“I wasn’t expecting anything – but – I thought – Kuroo, what’s – we haven’t seen each other in a week, since – I thought we – “ Bokuto feels himself nearly hyperventilating.

“Look…Bokuto…you know this can’t last, right?” Kuroo says slowly.

Bokuto’s hands tingle, pins and needles, numbness that spreads over his arms and around his heart and settles coldly in his stomach. “Oh,” he manages.

“You have to realize that this…isn’t sustainable.” Bokuto says nothing. Kuroo keeps going, but Bokuto only barely hears him. “I like you, really I do, and it’s been fun, but I think – I think maybe this is a sign we need to quit while we’re ahead, you know? We’ll always have good memories to look back on.” Bokuto says nothing. “I just don’t want to see you hurt.” Again, Bokuto remains silent, looking at his folded hands. “Are you listening to me? I’m a vampire. You’re a vampire hunter. Whatever you thought…It’s…it won’t happen.”

“Okay,” Bokuto finally says.

“Okay,” Kuroo repeats back.

Silence stretches, spider-web thin and just as deadly.

“I’m-“ Kuroo starts, the grimaces and tries again. “I’m grateful to you for saving Kenma’s life,” he says eventually. “Without you I’m not sure what would have happened.” Bokuto nods dumbly. “Are you tired?”

Bokuto nods slowly. He isn’t tired at all but he can’t stomach the thought of continuing the conversation.

“Do you want to lie down?” Another slow nod. “Here.” Kuroo puts a gentle hand on Bokuto’s arm. Bokuto barely manages not to flinch from it. Kuroo guides him to stand, leading him to the one thing Bokuto had subconsciously avoided looking at in his first inspection of the apartment – Kuroo’s bed. It isn’t properly a bed, just a pallet with pillows and blankets and big enough to lie down on, but still. He’s thought about this moment, dreamed about it, and he’d hoped – he’d _thought –_ but now it’s here and it’s all _wrong_.

“Rest here. I’ll wake you up before the sun rises.” Bokuto obeys, closing his eyes as soon as his head hits the pillow. Kuroo seems to hover over him for a second before heading for the door. “I won’t be far,” he says lightly. Bokuto hears a light switch click. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll hear you.”

Bokuto isn’t tired, but his body seems to know that the only thing to do now is sleep. He dimly hears the door close behind Kuroo, and then he’s alone.

He wonders how close a vampire would have to be to smell tears.

***

“Actually, fuck this,” Bokuto tells Kuroo’s ceiling some time later.

Bokuto slept, but not for long. He’s still alone, and the lights are all out. His nap has given him some clarity and some agency. If Kuroo doesn’t feel the same, if Kuroo thinks he can be tossed aside, if Kuroo thinks that renowned vampire Hunter Bokuto Koutarou is going to wait around for him to give him orders, he can go fuck himself then. Bokuto has been wrong before, Kuroo isn’t special (but he is _he is_ or Bokuto thought he was or he wants him to be or)

He opens the sliding glass door to the courtyard. It’s still empty. (Where’s Kuroo – what if Bokuto never sees him again-)A look up tells him that not much time has passed; the moon is still low in the sky, but things are brighter beneath the dome. No one stops him, so he strides across the courtyard, back the way they came.

(Maybe Kuroo is right – maybe they can’t be anything, maybe they weren’t anything in the first place.)

Navigating back is a breeze, like he thought it would be. It’s even easy to avoid vampires, since no one is making an effort to be quiet. (Fuck Kuroo, and fuck vampires.) He’s just starting to worry about how he’s going to get through the gate when it all goes to shit.

A presence slips into step beside him, silent ad sure-footed. Bokuto draws breath to shout, but a hand darts out to cover his mouth and nose.

“Hush,” the presence commands. It’s Kuroo. Bokuto feels his entire body flush. ( _He’s here he’s here he’s here)_ “You have three separate vampires tracking you. They’re all bad news. Do what I say.”

_SHIT._

Kuroo shifts his hand to the back of Bokuto’s neck, guiding him to bow his head. It’s a sick parallel to their escape from Bokuto’s city. Bokuto strains his ears for any sign of the vampires tracking them, but he doesn’t hear anything other than the normal city sounds and the oppressive thump of his heart.

Long, countless, tense, silent minutes pass. Kuroo leads them effortlessly, until suddenly, for no reason discernable to Bokuto, he stops. Bokuto breathes a sigh of relief – _it’s over_ , he thinks – until he hears Kuroo growl behind him.

“Back off,” he says menacingly. Bokuto, for the first time in a long while, feels actual fear in Kuroo’s presence.

Barely turning his head, he slides his eyes over to Kuroo. He’s staring down a nondescript scrap of alleyway in front of them. Bokuto can’t make out anything strange. His hands itch for his weapons, for better light, anything to give him an advantage.

When the vampires before them melts out of the shadows, it’s like déjà vu. It’s the same feeling of helplessness, of being stuck, of falling while standing still. He felt it nearly a decade ago, right before he killed his first vampire.

“He isn’t marked,” the stranger says lightly, with a voice like oil on broken glass.

And then Bokuto feels Kuroo pressed up behind him, every inch of lithe muscle along his back. He’s shocked into stillness when Kuroo winds an arm around his waist possessively. (Protectively? Both?)

“Marks on the neck are so passé, don’t you think?” Kuroo says lightly, breath cool on Bokuto’s skin.

The other vampire smirks haughtily. “Is that so?” He inspects his fingernails – immaculate – as he talks. “It really isn’t wise to keep something so _delicious_ out in the open if you’re not going to share, Kuroo.” He flicks his eyes over them one last time. “Well, run along, then.” And he’s gone.

Kuroo huffs, but pulls Bokuto around to go back the direction they came, jerking his head like he wants Bokuto to follow. He goes, but he doesn’t say anything. In the silence, beside Kuroo’s stony and blank look, the walk back to the apartment feels short but _heavy_. He wishes he could sprint back, wishes Kuroo would say something, wishes he hadn’t left, but he’s just stuck here. It all happened so _fast –_ none of it feels real yet, even though the pit in his stomach is still heavy and cold as he tries to keep up with Kuroo’s long strides.

“And what was _this_ little stunt about?” Kuroo asks icily, as the streets start to look familiar again.

Bokuto’s mouth twists into a grimace. Maybe it’s better if they didn’t talk, after all.

 “It wasn’t a stunt. I-I didn’t mean anything by it,” he mumbles, eyes trained on his feet.

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asks, voice flat.

“I just thought – I just thought it would be easier,” he says feeling lame.

“Easier? For who? For anyone who pleased to make a meal out of you? Well that’s true,” he says, steel in his tone.

“ _No-“_

“Oh? Then easier for who?”  

“ _Me,”_ Bokuto bites, fighting back the urge to shove Kuroo against the wall.  

“I see,” is all Kuroo says.

The courtyard is even more beautiful at this time of night, Bokuto notices as they re-enter. The light of the moon seems to enliven them, making the colors more vivid and the scents more intoxicating. Bokuto almost resents it: he’ll never see it again after tonight but it seems to be going out of its way to be as stunning and perfect as possible.

Kuroo lets them back in to the apartment, without a word. Bokuto follows.

Kuroo slides the door shut, then turns to face him, lit perfectly by the moon. He just stares are Bokuto, eyes calmly searching over every inch of him.

“Quit it,” Bokuto snaps, turning away from him to takes his shoes off and sit in the arm chair. Like hell he’s getting back in Kuroo’s bed.

“Sorry,” Kuroo replies instantly, obviously not sorry. “I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“Me?” Bokuto repeats, whirling around. “What’s wrong with _me?_ You’re the one who _left_ me here after – after-“ he gestures between them wildly, practically feeling his blood pressure rise. “And what did that mean back there – marked?”

 “He was – vampires who take humans as – as pets,” he says carefully, keenly aware of Bokuto’s furious glare, “typically leave a bite mark on their neck as a claim. It’s for your protection,” Kuroo says, infuriatingly calm. “If I claim you, others understand that there are consequences for harming you.”

“Well _don’t_ tell people that! It’s weird!”

Kuroo shrugs, looking unruffled. It’s _infuriating._ “Oh, next time I’ll let you get eaten.”

“There _won’t_ be a next time,” Bokuto snaps before he can think.

Kuroo raises an eyebrow cooly, then straightens, pulling his shoulders back and looking at Bokuto as impassively as before. “Of course. You’re free to leave as soon as the sun rises. I have no intention of keeping you.”

The words strike something inside him – his worst fear. There’s the truth of it, spread out in black and white. Bokuto huffs a laugh, feeling himself start to pout. “Of course not,” he mutters.

“What does that mean?”

“You know what I mean!” Bokuto knows he sounds petulant and childish but he’s _angry._

“I really don’t.” Kuroo folds his arms, jutting his chin out defensively. “Tell me.”

“It’s nothing,” Bokuto says shortly, turning away to sit in the chair. He curls into himself, pulling his legs up an turning his back to Kuroo as best as he can. “Let me go to sleep.”

There’s a long pause. Bokuto is aware that his shirt has risen up in the back, but he can’t make himself move it – that might make Kuroo think he cares if Kuroo sees, and he doesn’t. He couldn’t care less if the vulnerable skin of his lower back in on display, that the paleness of the skin there must look awful to Kuroo, that his feet are now bare and he feels more childish and useless than ever. He doesn’t care, he can’t care, won’t allow himself to care if Kuroo is looking at him. And Kuroo is still looking at him, hasn’t moved an inch.

“Bokuto,” he murmurs lowly.

And Bokuto _hates_ the shiver that runs through him at the plaintive, sweet note to his voice. He just barely resists, feigning sleep (but Kuroo can probably tell he’s faking because he can hear his heartbeat or some shit _vampires are the fucking worst)._ But Kuroo seems content to let him rest, because Bokuto hears him sigh and turn away, and some rustling that might be him going to his bed. Bokuto wonders if Kuroo thinks the sheets smell like him. He wonders how Kuroo would feel about it if they did.

Bokuto has nearly actually drifted to sleep when Kuroo speaks again.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this,” he whispers. Bokuto stiffens, but Kuroo keeps going. “I wanted to bring you here when it was the right time, when – when I knew for sure how you felt. I never wanted to force your hand about any of it,” he says wistfully. “But I just can’t get anything right with you, can I?”

 _Oh._ Kuroo must actually believe he’s asleep. Bokuto tries to keep his breath deep and even, fighting off the weariness that pulls at him to listen.

“I _wanted_ to,” he says, and he sounds so miserably upset that Bokuto, despite it all, just wants to wrap his arms around him. “I wanted to get it right. I – I thought we were doing pretty well. I thought –“ he chuckles, the little laugh that means something isn’t very funny at all. “I thought you liked me. Stupid.” Bokuto hears Kuroo shift – and he’s a little closer than Bokuto thought, not on the bed at all. “I’ll miss you, Bo.”

Bokuto looks up, directly into Kuroo’s eyes.

Kuroo freezes, down to his blood, eyes wide in shock. He’s sitting on the floor across the room, just watching Bokuto sleep. He’s hugging his knees to his chest – he looks soft and vulnerable. He almost doesn’t look like Kuroo.  

“Why are you going to miss me?” Bokuto demands, voice powerful and unwavering, despite the quivering of his heart. _Maybe maybe maybe_

“Be-because you’re going home in the morning,” Kuroo admits, shocked into honesty.

“Why?”

“Because you want to?”

“I never said I did.”

Kuroo blinks a few times, eyes flashing in the moonlight still pouring through the large window. “Don’t you?” he says meekly.

Bokuto shrugs. “Depends.”

“On?”

Bokuto licks his lips. Kuroo’s eyes flash to it, uncontrollably.

Slowly, the slowest he’s ever moved in his life, Bokuto rises from the chair and makes his way over to Kuroo. Kuroo just watches him, just watches with wide, keen eyes as Bokuto walks across the room and sinks to the floor in front of him. He only moves when Bokuto presses into his space. He parts his knees to Bokuto can kneel before him, sitting on his heels. Kuroo doesn’t take his eyes off Bokuto once, shocked into stillness, fingers twitching like he wishes they were doing something else. He doesn’t even seem to be breathing.

Bokuto hopes that all means what he thinks it means.

“Kuroo,” Bokuto says quietly, like he might spook him otherwise.

“Yeah,” Kuroo breathes. Bokuto can feel the breath ghost across his face.

“I like you,” he says in a rush. Kuroo inhales, not enough to be called a gasp, but Bokuto hears it. “Do you like me?” he asks, voice only trembling a little.

“Yes,” Kuroo answers immediately.

_Yes yes yes Yes YES YES! YES! YES YESYESYES!!!!!_

“Do you want to kiss me?”

Kuroo surges forward, and everything _explodes._

He’s a lot more aggressive than the last time, wrapping a hand around Bokuto’s neck immediately to control the kiss. Bokuto isn’t complaining. Kuroo’s teeth snag at his lips, and Bokuto gasps into the dull tug. Kuroo snarls as he swipes his tongue possessively into Bokuto’s mouth, pushing him down to lie on his back on the floor. Bokuto can barely breathe as he tries to keep up, but _Kuroo_ is all around him, over him. All Bokuto can think is that Kuroo should be _in_ him too. It makes him whine and break away from the kiss, letting his head thunk against the floor, bearing his neck.  

Kuroo takes the invitation, letting his fangs just barely draw blood on Bokuto’s skin, licking it away sensually. “I thought I was crazy for thinking you liked me,” he says sweetly, fervently, into the sensitive place where Bokuto’s pulse is going wild.

“Me too,” Bokuto replies hoarsely. Kuroo sucks on the skin of his neck, hard and hungry, as Bokuto helplessly bucks his hips.

Kuroo groans, shoving his knee between Bokuto’s thighs roughly. Bokuto whimpers and grinds into it. “You’re-you’re making this really hard.”

Bokuto giggles, boldly slowing his hips to a deliberate roll against Kuroo’s cock. “I sure am.”

Kuroo laughs back, breathless and surprised. “That’s not what I mean.” Bokuto can actually feel his chest vibrate as he speaks, they’re pressed so tightly together. “I – this is your first time. I’m supposed to a gentleman about it.” Kuroo mirrors his words with gentle nips of his mouth along Bokuto’s neck and collarbone. “But I just want to _wreck you,”_ he growls, hands gripping tightly at Bokuto’s waist to keep him still and he grinds down.

Bokuto chokes on his moan, it comes out so fast and hard. “D-do it,” he pleads.

Kuroo growls, letting it curl around Bokuto’s ear. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I’ve been waiting too long, Kuroo, _please.”_

Before Bokuto can even finish saying it, Kuroo is moving. He grips Bokuto’s thighs and pulls, wrapping Bokuto’s legs around his waist. He pulls Bokuto into his arms roughly, giving Bokuto no choice but to hold around his neck. Then, effortlessly, Kuroo is lifting them, like he can’t bear to be away from Bokuto long enough to just get them to the bed some other way. Bokuto is dizzy and panting and he _wants_.

Kuroo lets him drop to the mattress; Bokuto bounces like a woman in a romance novel, dazed and blinking up at Kuroo. But Kuroo could never be mistaken for a romantic lead. His hair is ruffled artlessly, his eyes are too hungry, too dangerous, too possessive, and Bokuto’s blood stains his lips. Kuroo wipes his mouth on the back of his hand as he lowers himself to his knees, between Bokuto’s spread legs hanging off the edge of the mattress.

“Tell me to slow down,” he commands, looking down at Bokuto with those dark, flashing eyes. “Tell me if you don’t like something. Don’t let me hurt you.”

“You won’t-“

“I’m gonna have a hard time controlling myself,” he interrupts in a strained voice, running his hands over Bokuto’s calves. Bokuto can feel the power there, the barely restrained, destructive force those hands are capable of, the truth of behind his words. He shivers, eyelashes fluttering. “Promise you’ll stop me.”

“Promise,” Bokuto breathes.

Kuroo smiles.

And pounces, like Bokuto hoped he would. He immediately goes for the button of Bokuto’s pants, tugging everything off so Bokuto is instantly bare. His skin tingles with expectation as Kuroo looks him over. He looks pleased with what he sees. He lets his hands rest on Bokuto’s thighs, squeezing experimentally at the muscle there. Bokuto jerks into the touch; Kuroo smiles approvingly. He leans down, perilously close to Bokuto’s erect cock.

“I’ve wanted to do this since we first met,” he says sweetly, eyelashes fluttering, as he takes Bokuto into his mouth.

Bokuto gasps, shuddering uncontrollably, as Kuroo’s soft lips suckle the head of his cock. It’s _overwhelming_ , but Kuroo seems to know what he’s doing. He stretches his jaw and slides more and more into his mouth, eyes closed rapturously, as he drives Bokuto absolutely mad. He isn’t slow, not really, but he is methodical, carefully using every movement to make Bokuto jerk into his touch and cry out loudly. Bokuto wraps his hands into the sheets, trying to find something to focus on, something to do, that isn’t just unravel at the seams.

So he talks.

“Kuroo,” he whines hoarsely. “Feels – it feels _amazing.”_ Kuroo _hums around his cock_ , and holy _shit_. “You’re so _good, Kuroo.”_

Kuroo pulls away from his cock, a little disapproving line between his brows. “Tetsurou.”

Bokuto, breathless, props himself on his elbows to look down at him. (It’s beyond absurd, making eye contact with Kuroo while his fully erect dick bobs obscenely between them, Kuroo’s lips shiny with pre-cum and spit as they have a fucking _conversation.)_ “What?” he pants.

“Kuroo is my family name,” he says in a rush, fingers smoothing gently along Bokuto’s thighs. “Tetsurou is – is what I want you to call me.”

“Tetsurou?” he murmurs, tasting the name on his tongue. It’s good, especially when Kuroo – Tetsurou – smiles, nods, and takes his cock back into his mouth.

Bokuto shivers – his body temperature is just cool enough that Bokuto can _really_ feel it, can really feel every single part of him that glides across his skin. “Tetsurou,” he whispers again. It’s new and intimate. He lets his eyes slide closed on a sigh as he rests his head back on the bed.

Which is why the first touch against his asshole comes as a surprise.

He clenches with surprise, breath hitching. Kuroo hmms comfortingly. When Bokuto peeks down, Kuroo is looking back at him, studying his reactions. Bokuto gives a shakey nod, mustering the coordination to push against the slick, intruding touch. Bokuto gets the feeling that Kuroo is smiling as he presses his finger to Bokuto’s entrance.

It’s _different_ with someone else doing it. It’s like electricity zipping through his veins, skipping up his spine. He hasn’t exactly been quiet, but now he knows he’s loud, whining and moaning and gasping even though Kuroo has only worked one finger in. He bites down, choking on the noises in embarrassment.

“Don’t,” Kuroo orders harshly, driving in with his fingers. Bokuto’s back bows forward, off the mattress, curling over Kuroo below him. “I want to hear everything.”

“It’s – I, I…K-kuroo – _Tetsurou,_ please, I…”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive skin of Bokuto’s inner thigh. “I’ve got you.”

And Kuroo presses in a second finger. Suddenly, Bokuto is aware of something _else_ inside him – a little spot that he’s never really be able to get at properly by himself, some hot-shivery-flare that makes his whole body come alive.

“Kuroo, a little – go a little more up, like…no, a little- _fuck!”_ Bokuto sees stars with Kuroo rubs his fingers over the spot.

“There?” Kuroo asks smugly. Bokuto babbles in response, _yes_ , and _please,_ and _oh god, oh god Kuroo!_ Kuroo drives in with a third finger before he’s totally ready. He winces, a little.

But he immediately feels a wave of the thrall wash over him. Kuroo is ever attentive; it’s only enough to make him go loose again and take away the worst of the sting. He sighs dreamily as he lets his head fall back on the pillow.

“Are you ready?” Kuroo asks, a touch nervously. “Can – can I?”   

Bokuto shivers at the sweet request. He spreads his legs a little farther, feeling greedy and wanton, hoping he looks that way too. (If Kuroo’s little gasp is anything to go by, he does. A warm feeling floods through him at the thought.)

Bokuto keeps his eyes shut as he hears Kuroo get off the floor, then shuffle out of his clothes, then grab for the bottle of lube. He keeps them shut tight as Kuroo arranges them on the bed, nudging him to lie horizontally, and kneels between his legs. Bokuto trembles when Kuroo’s strong hands tug at his shirt, encouraging him to lift up so Kuroo can take it off. Bokuto whines embarrassingly when Kuroo spreads his legs apart, fighting the urge to clamp them shut again.

“Open your eyes, Bo,” Kuroo whispers, sweet and filthy.

“I – I can’t,” he replies, feeling shivery and hot and like his skin is stretched out too thin over his body.

“I want to see them,” Kuroo murmurs, kissing his cheeks reverently, slowly. “I want to watch you take my cock for the first time.”

And that makes Bokuto _shiver,_ down to his toes, sets loose a spark of heat that rockets through his stomach and makes him gasp. His eyes roll, just a little, so by default they flutter open to reveal Kuroo over him. He’s got the strangest expression on his face – excitement and awe and hunger all wrapped into one. As Bokuto blinks up at him, he licks his lips, slowly.

“Same rule still applies.” Kuroo locks eyes with him. “You tell me to stop, I stop. You want to slow down, I slow down. You’re in control of that.” Kuroo leans down to let his lips brush against Bokuto’s ear. “I’m in control of everything else. Let me do all the work. Let me make you feel _good_ , Bo, _please._ Please let me,” he begs, voice low and reedy.

And that’s about as much as Bokuto can take. No amount of nerves or shyness or even actual pain could make him deny _that_. He bares his neck in a show of submission – he tracks the movement of Kuroo’s eyes over the delicate skin and feels a flare of triumph.

“Ready?” Kuroo asks him one last time.

“I’m ready.”

Kuroo presses inside.

It hurts, like he anticipated, but it’s not so bad. It’s sharp, at first, a sting under the stretch that’s unpleasant. But it’s bearable, and he remembers that switch inside him that Kuroo will eventually hit, so he breathes through it and waits. It’s made infinitely easier with the way Kuroo smoothes his hands over Bokuto’s cheeks, kisses across his eyelids, whispers praise and encouragements to him as he slides inside. The head of his cock pops in, and Bokuto expects it to hurt but it doesn’t – it just makes Kuroo bottom out, fast. Bokuto nearly looses his breath, feels his gasp catch in his throat as he hears Kuroo moan in pleasure. And then he’s _full_ , stretched to breaking but not quite. _Kuroo_ is _inside_ him, his asshole is spread open around Kuroo’s cock, filthy and perfect.

“Tetsurou,” he moans, when he feels Kuroo’s hips press against him. Kuroo takes a shaking breath in response, searching Bokuto’s face carefully.

“Good?” Kuroo asks, but the sly look in his eyes betrays him. He knows it’s good.

Bokuto responds by arching his back, so he grinds down on Kuroo inside him. It feels _amazing_ , with the added benefit of letting him watch Kuroo as he does it. Kuroo’s upper lip curls, and his head tips back and his eyes close as he revels in the sensation. When he opens his eyes to look down at Bokuto again, it’s with a dangerous smile and fire in his eyes.

“Let’s go, then.”

Everything _stops_.

Everything that isn’t them, right now, like this, fades away. Bokuto understands nothing beyond the drag and catch of Kuroo’s cock, of Kuroo’s teeth at his neck, or the feel of sweat slicked skin under his fingernails. Kuroo fucks like an animal, rutting his hips so hard and fast that Bokuto can barely catch his breath. But when he can, he’s practically screaming, _sobbing_ out his pleasure.

“That’s it, babe,” Kuroo encourages him, pressing his ear to Bokuto’s lips to catch every little noise. “Tell me.”

“Yes! Yes yes _yes,_ there, _ah!”_ Bokuto cries, locking his arms around Kuroo’s neck to drag his lips closer. Kuroo obliges him, sliding their tongues together gently without letting up his pace at all.

“You’re so fucking _good,”_ Kuroo growls, letting his teeth prick at Bokuto’s clavicle. “You feel so fucking good, Bokuto.”

“You too,” Bokuto pants back. “Really, really _really good_ , Tetsurou.”

Kuroo hmms, and slows his hips. Rather than rough pounding, he switches to slow rolls and deep grinds, so Bokuto can feel every single inch of Kuroo sliding into him and back out again. Bokuto trembles and lets out a shivering moan. Kuroo seems to like it – he growls and pulls him closer into his arms. 

“You’re just as gorgeous as I imagined,” Kuroo whispers sweetly, brushing his hair away from his face. “You’re so fucking _hot_ inside I thought I was gonna come in a second. I love seeing you stretched around my cock.” Bokuto gasps and shivers. “And _that,_ god I love that, listening to you and feeling you.” Kuroo changes his rhythm suddenly, and Bokuto chokes on his moan. “It’s better than I imagined,” he says hoarsely.

 _Fuck_. “Kuroo, I’m gonna come,” Bokuto says, with sudden and growing certainty. “Please, touch me, _please.”_  

“Yeah – yeah, let me-“ Kuroo grunts and worms a hand between them, wrapping his fingers loosely around the head of Bokuto’s weeping cock. And oh fuck _fuck_. He gasps and bucks into it, whimpering. If he’d thought it was intense before, now it’s nigh unbearable. He’s sensitive and hot all over, and Kuroo is working him over so perfectly he can’t see straight.

“There, babe, gonna come for me?” Kuroo grits out, eyes sparking greedily as he watches.

“Yes! Ah! Ah, _ah!”_ Bokuto wails shamelessly, something primal unfurling in his chest. He feels actual tears form in his eyes. Kuroo, in a feat of athleticism, actually pulls one of Bokuto’s legs up so it’s over his shoulder. And the burning stretch lets Kuroo get even _deeper_ inside, angles his cock to the perfect spot, so that Bokuto has no choice but to come, hard.

He nearly blacks out it’s so intense. He knows he’s screaming, flailing helplessly as Kuroo fucks him through it. The electric feeling builds and _builds_ and _builds_ until it has nowhere to go, until Bokuto is sure he’ll collapse under the force of it. Kuroo keeps at it, slamming into him so hard that Bokuto’s cock sprays everywhere, covering both of them. And Kuroo is still fucking him, and he’s still coming, and coming and then –

Kuroo groans, hips stilling, and nearly collapses. Bokuto is still shiveringly sensitive, and everywhere their skin touches tingles pleasantly. Kuroo drops Bokuto’s leg that he’d been supporting, and leans in to press his lips to Bokuto’s neck, his shoulders, forehead, temples, eyelids, and then finally lips. They kiss slow and wet, tongues and breath lazily bringing them down from their high.

Suddenly, Bokuto is aware of how badly he’s panting, gasping for hair, and how the sweat is rolling off his body onto the sheets, how much cum there is on and in him.

_Gross._

But he can’t be bothered to move, wouldn’t even if he could. Because Kuroo is here, also sweating, also panting, and kissing him lazily, like they both have all the time in the world. It feels – it feels  - _strange,_ ridiculous, to be so excited about it, but he suddenly remembers that Kuroo said _he likes him._ It makes him grin, makes him smile so wide he couldn’t stop it if he tried. His cheeks nearly hurt with it, and Kuroo pulls back to stare down at him questioningly.

“Nothing,” Bokuto says quickly, unable to control the goofy smile. “Nothing, I’m just happy,” he pants. Kuroo blinks, eyes going wide like he’s surprised to hear it. Then, he buries his face in Bokuto’s neck, and nuzzles in. The room has finally stopped spinning.

“Me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;D ;D ;D  
> Leave a comment and let me know what you think! We're very close to the end of this one, guys! Wowee! :D


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Been gone a little longer than I wanted to, and this chapter isn't quite 100%, but I still think it's good, and ready to share! Thanks so much for all your patience and all the amazing comments and the support. Note: the chapter count has changed for the (probably) final time. ;) Enjoy this short, fluffy update!

“Bo, wake up, sweetheart.”

_Sweetheart?_

Bokuto jerks awake, eyes unfocused and bleary – where _is_ he? He feels a cool hand on his bare shoulder, and remembers.

His first thought is to bury his head under the pillows until he can sort out everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Instead, he forces himself to find Kuroo’s eyes.

Kuroo is smiling down at him. “You’re drooling,” he says, with an evil glint in his eyes.

Bokuto groans and shifts to rub at the sticky mess on his face. “Gross.” Kuroo just laughs. “Why’d you wake me up? Still dark outside,” he grumbles as he snuggles back into the warm bed.

“You have to get back, Bo.”

Bokuto groans. “But I’m sleepy,” he whines.

“You have to get home before the sun rises. It’ll look worse the longer you’re gone.” Bokuto whines again, burrowing further into the blankets. (They smell like Kuroo.) “You’re useless in the mornings, huh?” Kuroo says offhandedly, but he sounds so fond that Bokuto can’t help but peek up at him. He’s smiling faintly, like he can’t help it. Bokuto, still heavy and warm with sleep, feels the blood rising in his cheeks, and belatedly remembers –

“Koutarou,” he blurts. Kuroo frowns, cocks his head to the side. _(Cute.)_ “That’s my name. Like, my given name. My first name.” Bokuto rubs the sleep from his eyes and tries to string a thought together. “Koutarou.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says, so softly and sincerely that Bokuto feels his heart skip a beat. “Koutarou,” he repeats with a soft smile. Bokuto smiles back, before he remembers.

“Kuroo –“ he sits up so fast he gives himself a head-rush and Kuroo has to steady him. “What’s gonna happen?”

“What do you mean?” Kuroo says, cheerily, but Bokuto can see the dark flash in his eyes.

“When am I gonna see you again?” Bokuto asks, near desperately. “I – I don’t want to leave.” Panic and bile rise in his throat at the thought of what awaits him. He clutches Kuroo’s arms desperately. “I – they’re gonna ask me questions, Kuroo, what do I say?”

Kuroo’s mouth drops open, the ghost of a smile on his lips – but he seems to change his mind halfway thorugh. He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says, rubbing absently at Bokuto’s arm with his thumb. At least he was honest. Bokuto hangs his head in his hands, trying to breath deep. “It may not be as bad as all that,” he says thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?” Bokuto says into his hands.

“I mean – we don’t know what happened after we left. It’s possible it didn’t even get reported.” Bokuto grimaces – that doesn’t seem likely. “Either way,” Kuroo says levelly, crouching down to look him in the eyes. “If you’re back in your bed before anyone notices, it’ll definitely be easier for you.”

“Akaashi noticed,” Bokuto says, startled awake by the pain of the thought. He’d told Akaashi he was going out for fresh air and never come back last night. At best he’ll be worried and scared, and at worst he’ll he waiting with a loaded gun for Bokuto to get home.

“Who’s Akaashi?”                                               

“He’s – he’s my roommate,” Bokuto says gloomily. Kuroo rubs his shoulder but doesn’t question him.

“Let’s go,” he whispers tightly.

Bokuto presses the heels of his hands to his eyes until he sees stars and his ears start ringing and it almost hurts. When he opens his eyes nothing has changed, so he gets out of bed.

Getting dressed next to someone you’ve had sex with is…different. In theory, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, as they’ve already seen everything there is to see. He’s been in plenty of locker rooms with total strangers and never felt an ounce of shame. But Bokuto feels skittish and shy, like he’s being put on display. It doesn’t help that Kuroo’s already dressed, looking like nothing at all happened last night. But it does help that Kuroo runs his eyes up and down his body, and asks in a low voice, “Are you sore?”

Bokuto gives a little wiggle-stretch, to be sure, and shakes his head. “Nothing unmanageable.”

Kuroo smiles and hands Bokuto his shirt. Bokuto goes to take it, but Kuroo grabs his wrist and pulls him into a kiss instead. He almost tastes familiar already, and Bokuto surges eagerly into the kiss. Kuroo pulls him close gently, all calm in opposition to last night’s storm. His lips are soft and loose as he coaxes Bokuto into the rhythm. Bokuto feels like he might swoon on the spot.

Bokuto blinks at Kuroo when he pulls away. “Tetsurou – when am I gonna see you again?” Bokuto asks again. This _thing_ between them, the reciprocation of it, is new and it feels like the only thing connecting them is spun sugar. It could break so easily.

Kuroo takes his face between his hands. “I don’t know,” he says again, “but you have to promise me you’ll be _smart._ Stay _safe,_ Bo.” Bokuto pouts, dropping his eyes. Kuroo shakes him a little. “Koutarou.” Bokuto looks up automatically, feels his cheeks flush. “I’m serious. We’ll see each other again soon. I promise. Don’t do anything reckless in the meantime. Okay?” Bokuto nods, but he can’t quite stop himself from pouting. “Oh, come here,” Kuroo grouses, and pulls Bokuto into his arms.

Bokuto honestly can’t remember a time he needed a hug more. He clings to Kuroo, a little pathetically, but Kuroo is holding him back, so it doesn’t really matter. Bokuto nuzzles into Kuroo’s neck, breathing deeply, as irrational tears sting his eyes.

“Kuroo?” Bokuto says, voice wavering treacherously.

“Yeah?”

“I – I love you.”

Kuroo’s arms tighten around him, almost like a flinch. Bokuto’s heart skips so many beats he can’t be sure how many until Kuroo says,

“I love you too.”

After that, it’s nearly impossible to leave. But they do.

It’s darker out, the moon having shifted outside of the sight of the glass dome. It’s early then – Bokuto imagines he can just barely see the first touch of sunlight. But the city looks the same as they move through it. No one is going to bed, Bokuto realizes. No one needs to sleep. Unlike the parts of Bokuto’s city that are 24/7, it feels natural here. There is no sleepy lull in energy, no dead-eyed stares from those around them. It’s a city that truly never stops for anything. It feels more like progress than the filthy factories where Bokuto comes from.

“Where are we going?” Bokuto asks, when he realizes (probably a little late) that they aren’t heading for the front gate.

“My lab. Fewer people will see you leave.”

Bokuto perks up at the idea of seeing all the flowers again. But they never arrive at any stairs – Kuroo leads them down more and more obscure side-streets until Bokuto can’t hear the noise of the city at all. It’s darker here, too, as they near the wall and get less reflection from the light of the moon.

“Kuroo,” Bokuto asks, so suddenly it startles both of them. “What happens when the sun rises?”

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asks with a backward glance.

Bokuto just points up at the clear glass.

“Oh.” Kuroo’s eyes light up. “The glass is treated with a coating that lets light in, but not the kind that harms us.”

Bokuto blinks, once, twice, then frowns. “There’s…different kinds?” Bokuto struggles to keep up through Kuroo’s explanation of how the sun works (he knows _how the sun works??)_ and the way you can filter different kinds of light through different materials, and the way different wave lengths (?????) affect vampires skin.

“But, Kuroo,” Bokuto interrupts when he’s sure his brain will melt with all the new information being thrown at him, “how did you figure that out?”

A touch of embarrassment flashes behind his eyes. “It wasn’t me by myself. But I uh – “ he laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “I got burned a few times.”

“ _Burned?”_

“It’s the sun, I’m a vampire.”

“But you – you let yourself get burned on purpose?”

“It was important to me to figure it out,” Kuroo says simply, peering around a corner before tugging him along. Bokuto stares at the back of his head incredulously, before a very warm, fluttery feeling stirs in his chest and makes him smile, so wide it nearly hurts. Kuroo glances behind him to see Bokuto, grinning like an idiot. “What?”

“I just like you,” Bokuto says simply. Kuroo turns away quickly, but Bokuto thinks he’s doing the vampire version of blushing again.

The wall looms higher and higher above them, until they’re right below it. Kuroo takes a key from his pocket and opens a wooden door inlaid in the wall, next to a cylindrical bulge that curves along the side of the wall. Bokuto realizes it must be the staircase he saw when Kuroo first brought him here. That’s confirmed when Kuroo pushes him through the door – a wooden staircase stretches up and out of sight, with the glass blocking more of the low light. Bokuto can just barely see Kuroo’s fingers as he unlocks the door that’s set into the outer wall.

The air outside tastes different. The air inside the city isn’t stale, not exactly, but tasting the cool forest night makes it clear that there’s definitely something _different_ about it. He hopes he has the chance to ask Kuroo about it someday. For the time being, he contents himself with slipping his hand into Kuroo’s as he leads the way back to Bokuto’s home.

The forest seems oddly quiet. Maybe it’s the touch of fall, creeping in early as the world prepares for winter. Maybe the rest of the world seems quiet compared to his beating heart, to Kuroo’s hand in his, to his solid, strong presence beside him. He’s grateful for it – he has a feeling they won’t get to be together like this for a while.

A mile away from the city, Kuroo stops. “Go on ahead,” he says lightly, squeezing Bokuto’s hand a few times.

Bokuto wants to protest, but he knows it’s no good. He grabs Kuroo’s face in his hands, to memorize the shape of it.  “Promise I’ll see you soon.”

“Promise,” Kuroo says steadily. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s try and meet right here,” Kuroo peels some bark off a tree near them, “in a week. If you don’t come, I’ll assume you just can’t get away safely.”

“You won’t come rushing in to save me again?” Bokuto teases, heart fluttering almost unpleasantly. It’s happening so fast, too fast – can’t he just _slow down_ for a second?

Kuroo laughs, pressing a kiss to Bokuto’s right palm. “Don’t make me wait too long, though.” Tears sting Bokuto’s eyes, and he lets a few fall before he scrubs them away. “Aw, sweetheart,” Kuroo says, leaning up to kiss his forehead. “Don’t. I’ll see you soon.” He takes Bokuto’s hands away from his face, squeezing them tightly. “Go on,” Kuroo encourages. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bokuto says, ignoring the way his voice is scratchy and tight. Kuroo gives him one last peck on the lips, and shoos him away.

At first, Bokuto moves on autopilot. He feels like he’s going the wrong way, the wrong direction, empty and alone. But as he gets closer to the city, to the home he’s had his whole life, is vision clears. The ache gets easier and easier. Some of it even gets chased away as he sneaks back in to the city – the adrenaline that spikes through him as he nearly steps on a sleeping cat shakes off the worst of his melancholy.

It’s remarkably easy to sneak back to his apartment. No one is looking for him, security and patrols haven’t been changed. Though it’s been a while since he had to do it, it feels like old times when he slides into his bedroom window.

But this time, he has the memory of Kuroo’s lips on his, the way his voice sounds when he says “I love you,”, the way their bodies feel pressed together. Bokuto undresses and gets into his bed, though he’ll be woken in a few hours for work. _Ugh._ But he can make it. His heart is light as a balloon when he drifts to sleep, because how could it not be? When everything had gone right, for once?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave a comment with your thoughts and theories and what you liked! It really makes my day when I can read about how my writing made someone feel. We're almost done, folks! :D Thanks for sticking with me!


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh. Hi. Been a while.  
> There's a ton of reasons this is taking so long, but they're all boring and not very good. I'll include a few in the end notes, if you're curious. Either way, have a new chapter that isn't the last one. Thanks for reading!

 

“Get him up!”

Bokuto starts awake, but – he doesn’t understand – where – His eyes are thick and heavy and stinging with sleep, but before he can rub it away, before he can sit up, almost before he can breathe he’s being pulled from his bed and wrestled to the ground. He struggles on instinct, but there are hands – too many hands, and it’s _dark -_

A deep voice cuts through the chaos. “Bokuto Koutarou, you’re under arrest.”

Bokuto starts wildly, enough to get one of his arms free – he swings, connecting sharply with bone. There’s a curse from above him – his eyes are still clouded with sleep, seeing but not comprehending – but he may have just swung his forearm into someone’s shin. Something solid and heavy connects with the back of his head. He feels a dull thud, then the pain. Sharp throbbing aches radiate through his spine and making his eyes water. But the pain is clarifying and chases away the last of the sleep.

There’s men – everywhere – guns waving and batons glinting and there’s hands all over him, trying to gag him and binding him tightly. He bites one that makes the mistake of getting too close.

“Akaashi,” he screams again, to warn him –                

“He’s right here,” a gruff voice tells him, grabbing his hair painfully and forcing his head backward. Akaashi stands in his bedroom door, arms folded, staring down at him impassively.

Bokuto’s stomach drops sickeningly. “What’s going on?” he asks, voice low and strained.

“Nothing you didn’t see coming,” one of the officers says (because of course they must be officers, of course this is what’s happening). A gag is fitted between his teeth, and he doesn’t struggle. He doesn’t struggle when his arms are tied behind his back, he doesn’t struggle when he gets dragged to his feet so hard it nearly dislocates his shoulder. His feet are bare and his skin prickles in the cold – he’s dressed only in a ratty old pair of shorts.

He keeps his head down, eyes closed, as he’s paraded through the city. Everyone is just starting their day and there’s plenty of people to witness. There’s some shouting, some questioning of the officers leading him.  “ _Where are you taking him?” “What did he do?”_ Mostly though there’s just stunned silence. People stop in their tracks, stop what they’re doing to watch. Some stare with their mouths hanging open. Others frown, shielding their children’s eyes. Some purse their lips, eyes shifting around suspiciously. But everyone watches. He’s led to the center of town, gagged, bound, and nearly naked, Akaashi a few steps ahead of him. Bokuto stares at the back of his neck, wondering if his hands are cold like they usually are this time of year.

They go up the steps of the capitol building, then down into the basement. Bokuto knows where he’s headed. He’ll be Rehabilitated. That’s what happens to traitors – anyone deemed a theat. He’s committed the biggest offense, and the harshest sentence awaits him. He’ll be locked away and brainwashed back to the straight and narrow. Most aren’t heard from for years, kept in total isolation from their former lives to avoid relapse. The rest are sent away, to live far from the city they grew up in to avoid any potential triggers. His brain is thick and numb when he tries to process it – a sticky, viscous block in his mind when he tries to think about it. Kuroo – Kuroo will never know what happened to him. If Bokuto is lucky, he’ll only have to wait a few years to see him again. If Bokuto remembers him at all – the rumor is that they can _change_ you, induce amnesia, dig so deep inside you and turn you inside out so bad you wouldn’t recognize your own mother. If he does survive – if he does get out – will he even remember Kuroo? If Kuroo managed to find him and wants to rescue him, would Bokuto even recognize him?

Cool air wafts from the room in front of him when the officer leading the way opens the door. It’s a courtroom. Bokuto is lead down smooth stone steps to stand before the high desk, carved from smooth stone. The officers file into the first row of seats, chattering nastily among themselves. One stays on Bokuto, a heavy hand on his upper arm. Akaashi takes his place on the stand to the left of the judges table while Bokuto takes his on the floor, staring up at the judges stand. Yamiji stares down at him, frowning, but only barely. He sighs wearily. Bokuto hopes he doesn’t drag this out.

“Bokuto Koutarou,” he begins, eyes scanning over something on his desk as he speaks. (Probably Bokuto’s record – effectively spotless, until today.) “Graduated from the Hunter Academy fourth in your class, a year ahead of schedule at the recommendation of your teachers. Achieved Top 100 ranking before you were 21, and currently sit ranked at number 3 in the country. A few spots of trouble, but nothing that couldn’t be corrected.” He lifts his eyes and frowns down at Bokuto over the tops of his square glasses. It’s paternal but terrifying, considering the circumstances. “And now Akaashi tells me you’ve befriended a vampire.” 

Bokuto’s stomach drops out – he cuts his eyes over to Akaashi, searching, shocked. _Befriended_? Akaashi didn’t mention…anything else? Akaashi won’t look at him, eyes trained carefully on Yamiji. But in the breath of silence, in the moment where all of them are waiting for someone else to speak, Akaashi glances his way. It’s so fast that if Bokuto hadn’t been looking right at him he would have missed it entirely. But Akaashi looks at him, eyes raw and full and piercing _._ Bokuto understands in a flash.

Akaashi knew what would have happened if he’d revealed everything – about Bokuto being gay, about what happened the night Akaashi caught them. This “trial” would have been skipped – Bokuto likely would have been executed on the front steps of his apartment. Akaashi only did the bare minimum of what he thought he had to do to save Bokuto. He truly only wanted to help, and he’s being eaten alive by guilt. But he cares. Bokuto’s stomach settles back into its place, a little lighter.

Yamiji continues, utterly oblivious. “I didn’t believe it. I _wouldn’t_ believe it, I refused to. But he tells me you requested to shift assignments specifically to meet with this vampire. He tells me you spend the entire night away, gods know where. He tells me you’re tired all the time. That you’re distracted, distant. He’s worried about you,” Yamiji reprimands, cloyingly sweet. “And you’re lucky for that. He brought you to us instead of dealing with you himself. It’s not a curtesy others would have afforded you, were they in his position.” Yamiji adjusts the papers on his desk, stacking them neatly, closing one folder, opening another. “He saved your family an endless amount of shame. You should thank him for that.” Bokuto hangs his head to hide the twinge of pain – his parents. They will be told nothing, will be denied answers. That will be enough for them to assume where he is, but this way they can avoid public shame as a result of his carelessness.

“His concern for your life,” he continues, blithely, “is touching but quite unnecessary. The penalty for your actions is execution.”

“What?” Akaashi shouts, right as Bokuto feels a sharp jab to the back of his knee. He lands on his knees, hard, the pain taking the wind out of him. He sees stars as a heavy hand lands on his shoulder, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and dragging him forward a few inches. Akaashi is still screaming, demanding answers.

“He should be Rehabilitated! His record is perfect,” Akaashi insists, as another officer comes to Bokuto’s other side, restraining him by the back of the neck. He can’t fight back – struggling now would be useless. He goes limp in their hold. “The penalty for his actions is _Rebahilitation,_ Yamiji!”  

“The rehabilitation program hasn’t existed for years,” Yamiji explains patiently. Bokuto can hear Akaashi’s labored breathing. “This is easier, simpler, and more effective.”

“Then why – why bother?” Akaashi sputters, voice strained and thin. Bokuto is dragged ever closer to the high stone desk – there’s a door set to the side of it. That seems to be where they’re taking him. He deadweights a little more, makes them work harder to drag him. Fuck if he’s going back there without a fight.

“Because it’s easier to let people believe there’s a safety net, isn’t it?” Yamiji says calmly, as if to a precocious child. “And there used to be one – years ago. Didn’t seem to be much point in telling people it had been cut. Can you imagine all the people who we’d have berating us to let their loved ones live? Demand a fair trial?” Yamiji scoffs. “After what they did? Do they deserve it?” He flicks his hand at Bokuto, apparently signaling the guards to stop. “Does he deserve it?” he asks Akaashi, eyes narrow behind his glasses.

“Of course he does!” Akaashi shouts – he never shouts. “He just made a mistake!”

“If that’s what you really thought, you wouldn’t have brought the problem to me,” Yamiji says coldly. “Really, Akaashi, I expected you to understand. Normally I wouldn’t have allowed you down here, but I thought it would keep him,” here, he wafts a hand down at Bokuto, “complacent.” Yamiji looks down at Bokuto again, eyeing him hard.

“Do you believe you made a mistake, Koutarou?” he asks, peering over the tops of his glasses. And it makes his skin crawl, his given name curling out of the lips of the man who’s sentenced him to death without trial. Makes his skin crawl because the last person to say his name was Kuroo; he’d said it with longing and promise and love. A love that Yamiji would have him killed for, a love that Yamiji and people like him would never understand. Akaashi might have understood, in time. That’s his only regret, really.

So he looks up at Yamiji and smiles. “Not a one. See you in hell.” And he breaks the cuffs they’ve bound him with.

Stupid decision, really, not using metal ones. The leather has a seam, and all it takes the right amount of force at the right angle and it comes apart like paper. No one else seems to have taken that into account, because Bokuto takes out the two guards holding him before anyone else has time to react. The other guards, sitting pretty in the first row of stands, have to scramble for their weapons. Bokuto scampers out of range of a long barreled gun, knocking it aside and crumpling the woman wielding it with a kick to her temple. Another slices at him from the front – Bokuto gives him a sucker punch to the gut for his trouble.  As he bowls over, wheezing, Bokuto claps him around the ears and snags his knife from his hand as he goes down. He wheels around and slashes – but there’s no one behind him – _they’re_ behind _him –_ a knife flares hot through flesh.

“ _No,”_ Akaashi screams, suddenly there. Bokuto can only gasp, eyes blurring in pain, as Akaashi disposes of the last two guards, ruthless and sure. They fall to the floor, and the room goes oppressively quiet for an instant. Bokuto looks up to Yamiji’s desk – he’s out cold, a suspicious looking bruise forming across his forehead.

“ _You hit Yamiji?”_

“Of course I did. Self-righteous prick,” Akaashi mutters disdainfully. Bokuto presses a hand to his wound – still bleeding – and bites back a gasp.

Akaashi goes pale. “Bokuto,” Akaashi says, like he can feel it himself. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry – let me see,” he pleads, gently nudging Bokuto’s hands aside. Bokuto bites his tongue hard as Akaashi rips his shirt away, using the pieces to dab at the blood.

“It’s not that bad,” Bokuto hedges, as Akaashi probes it gently. “It doesn’t hurt too much.”

“You’re lucky you’re right,” Akaashi says through a tight jaw. He stands and takes his jacket off, then his shirt, using his knife to cut it into long strips. “I’m so sorry, Bokuto – I never thought he’d – “ he breaks off, exhaling shortly through his nose. “Lift your arms,” he says curtly.

Bokuto does, with a wince. “Quit mothering. I’m fine.”

“You were nearly killed,” Akaashi bites out, tying the strips of his shirt together to make a bandage. “We were lucky – _beyond_ lucky – keep your shirt out of the way please, Bokuto.”

“You think I didn’t have a plan?” Bokuto says, mostly to take his mind off the truly staggering amount of blood coming out of his body, and the lightheadedness that sweeps over him as the adrenaline wears off.

Akaashi scoffs, tying off the bandage and standing. He dusts the dirt off his knees. “Enlighten me,” he says primly, folding his arms across his chest.

“I – I mean – I was gonna…fight them,” Bokuto trails off, scratching at the back of his head. It pulls uncomfortably at the cut in his side.

Akaashi groans, rubbing at his eyes. “You can’t just rush into things, Bokuto!” he shouts, glaring up at him. “Actions have _consequences!_ Even for you!”

“I know that, ‘Kaashi.”

“Then fucking act like it!” He balls his hands in his fists, kicking the ground and swearing violently – like he’s doing it to avoid hitting Bokuto. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes, breathing deeply. Bokuto watches, as the panic starts to set it – what now?

Akaashi looks up at him, eyes deep and sad. “Bokuto, I’m so sorry. I never, ever wanted this to happen.”

“You just wanted me to go away forever.” It slips out – he doesn’t have time for this, doesn’t have time to be hurt, but he is. “You just didn’t want me to change.”

“That’s not true,” Akaashi says stubbornly, but Bokuto keeps looking at the floor between them. “Someone has to look out for you, Bo.”

“Kuroo looks out for me.” Bokuto feels Akaashi’s eyes snap up to his, and he meets them fearlessly.

Akaashi has that look on his face that means he thinks Bokuto is an idiot – but one look at Bokuto’s eyes and it drops away, piece by piece. Akaashi’s shoulders droop, a little defeated, but all he says is, “Okay. Then you have to go to him.”

Bokuto swallows, throat suddenly tight. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” Akaashi jerks his head around the room of bodies. “I have blackmail. Their biggest mistake was planning to let me walk out of this room.” Akaashi meets Bokuto’s gaze briefly, but can’t hold it. “Bokuto – I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bokuto shakes his head, grimacing. “I should have been more careful – “

“You shouldn’t have done it at all,” Akaashi cuts in icily.

Bokuto’s heart rate spikes. “You don’t understand –“

“Don’t I?”

“He’s – vampires aren’t – they’re not what you think. Do you seriously still believe all the shit we’ve been fed after _this!”_ He gestures wildly around the room. “There’s more than we’ve been taught, Akaashi I _promise._ We could learn from them, trade with them-“

“Vampires are bloodthirsty monsters, Bokuto! They’ve taken countless lives, _slaughtered_ –“

“So have we!” Bokuto grabs Akaashi’s shoulders and shakes him, crouching down to look into his eyes. “Akaashi, so have we. Vampires love, just like we do. I promise, Akaashi.”

And Akaashi wants to disagree, Bokuto can read it in his eyes. Bokuto stares him down, defying Akaashi to deny him, now, after this –

Another officer bursts through the door that Bokuto was being led to. There is one, long second of silence.

“Bokuto, _go,”_ Akaashi demands, drawling his pistol and leveling the barrel at the intruder, who’s called for back up. Bokuto can’t tell how many there are, but it’s enough.  

“Akaashi –“

Akaashi shoves Bokuto away. “ _Go,”_ he says again, voice wavering.

There’s no more time. Bokuto squeezes Akaashi’s forearm. “I love you, Keiji.”

He can just make out, “I love you too, Bo,” before he’s running.

When he thinks about it later, he can’t remember much. He remembers the running, the gasping for breath and the stitch in his side. He remembers being pursued so intently it felt like hellhounds on his tail. Mostly he just remembers running. Running from people screaming, hunting him down in the streets that he was raised in as he flees for his life. Children are crying, screaming as they try to make sense of what’s happening around them. Bokuto has never ignored a child crying ever, in his life. But today he just keeps running.

He barely avoids a barrage of bullets as he vaults over the high city wall. He rolls when he lands, but it puts pressure on the slice in his side. It feels like his ribs are going to pop out. The other officers aren’t as used to scaling the walls, have to take their time or go around. Bokuto’s bought himself a few seconds, but what can he do with them? _Think_ , he begs his sluggish mind. _Please. Please I don’t want to die. Think._

A bullet hits the dirt near his feet and sprays him. He runs again.

He can’t go straight to Kuroo, that’s leading an army right to his front gates. But he can’t keep running forever – he’s gushing blood, too much to stop the flow of and more than enough to track him by. His only hope is finding somewhere to hide for a few days while his trail dies. There’s a lake to the north, huge and surrounded by caves and rocks. He could shelter there, hunt for food, maybe even find some herbs to treat his wound. Then make his way back to Kuroo when he can (if Kuroo will have him, if he doesn’t bleed out first).

Three times, he has to scramble up a tree, lunging between branches, when the officers tailing him get so close he can’t slip away. Each time, he covers his mouth with his hand as he gasps for breath and presses his fist to his side, trying not to let the blood drip and give him away. Each time, he tries to process what happened – is happening. He’s _known_ people sent to Rehabilitation. Good Hunters in the wrong place at the wrong time, a few who had been labeled “difficult to work with”, and some who were probably no different than Bokuto himself. Had they all been slaughtered? Gutted like animals without hope of a trial? The thought made him so sick he nearly lost consciousness. It couldn’t be possible, just couldn’t be true, but it had happened to him.

His progress to the lake was slow, hindered by terrain and pursuit and injury. He was nearly caught once – a lone Hunter, probably not on assignment but wanting to capture him for the glory, happened to get close while Bokuto was taking a short rest to inspect the gash on his side. Only Bokuto’s reflexes and luck saved the day: as soon as they revealed themselves, Bokuto scooped up a handful of dirt and flung it into their eyes. By the time they could see again, Bokuto was long gone, only the swaying of tree branches overhead to betray his presence. Their shouts and wild gunshots followed him.

He doubles back a few times after that, first for three miles, then another 5 after he hears a suspicious noise behind him. All the while, the wound in his side seems to grew deeper, gnarlier, nastier, bloodier. Bokuto didn’t think he had this much blood in his whole body. All told, it takes about 27 hours for him to reach the lake. The sun rises over the rocky shore, shards of shells and sediment glinting at him and distracting his vision. His tired muscles ache for relief, but he has to find shelter first.

Bokuto has been here many times. He spent more than a few summers at the kids Hunter’s camp on the western shore, swimming in the lake, learning to shoot a gun, getting rocks stuck in the soles of his shoes, learning how to spot a vampire, how to kill one, sunbathing until he burned. Once, at thirteen, he waited until after curfew and swam to a tiny outcropping of rock. He had been told explicitly not to do that, because it would be too dangerous. He spent the night on it, stargazing by himself, crowing like a rooster in the morning to the cheers of the other campers. It was the last summer he spent there, but he was remembered. He can see the jut of rock, far in the distance. It looks smaller now.

There’s a series of small caves on the near side of the shore, and he makes his way there. So close to rest, the toll of his morning comes through loud and clear. He can’t keep from limping, one ankle sore from a botched roll after he jumped from a tree. His knees are shaking and weak. His head pounds – he’s thirsty – he’s starving. He scouts a hideout – a conglomeration of rocks that create a shelter from the rain and prying eyes – before plunging into the water. It’s cold but it’s _good_ , bracing and clarifying as he dunks his head and takes deep gulps. It chills him to the bone, but he feels better. He leaves the bandage that Akaashi made him – he doesn’t know when he’ll get to proper first aid. Food will have to wait. He crawls into his little shelter, settling in for the day.

Sleep won’t come. He can barely see straight, but when he closes his eyes he sees long stone corridors and bloody hands reaching out to grab him. He’s restless and he feels like he wants to crawl right out of his skin – but his mind is blank. Not calm, just empty, devoid of all meaningful thought. So he lies there, alone, hurting, on the cold ground. At least the bleeding seems to have stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it!  
> I've been sitting on this for a while because I really wanted to have it all in one chapter, but I realized that's a stupid, not important goal. I also lost motivation for a while because I'm honestly unhappy with the way the end has turned out. I don't want to color anyone else's perception, and I know it isn't really fair to judge myself that harshly, but that's why. But I don't care about that, because I'm really proud of myself and I want other people to keep having fun reading this story.  
> I also moved apartments and I'm adjusting to living with my partner, so my schedule got all thrown off.  
> So obviously I'm sorry its taken so long, but I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. The next one should be the actual last one, I promise. Please leave a comment and let me know how you think it's going, and what you want to see in the end! Thanks again!


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